


Escalation

by Macx



Series: Imperfection Deviation [49]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Transformers (Bay Movies)
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Suspense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-04-21
Updated: 2009-04-21
Packaged: 2017-10-19 06:30:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 29,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/197968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Macx/pseuds/Macx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Soundwave has arrived on Earth, too late to save Megatron, too late for the Allspark, but he has a plan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Escalation

He had come to Earth millennia after Megatron’s crash on this organic world. He had followed the trace left of his leader, the trace of the Allspark his leader had been pursuing, and Starscream’s flight pattern. They all had led here.

It was a small planet, but rich in energy sources, and populated by a species that had not been heard of before. The species was technologically advanced enough to attempt space travel in a moderate way, but it was in no way equal to Cybertron.

But he was too late.

Too late to save his leader.

Too late for the Allspark.

Too late to change the course of history.

By the time of his arrival years had passed since Megatron’s defeat and the Allspark’s destruction. Without the cosmic cube, restoration of Cybertron was futile. Their homeworld depended on the alien cube and it was no more. Cybertron was dying and would probably be dead should he ever return. Dead like many of his comrades.

So he stayed on Earth, watching and waiting. He snuck into the humans’ Internet, the web, their secret files, and their satellite surveillance. He sent out his spies to keep an eye on the surviving Autobots.

And he learned.

Of the Allspark shard. Of Megatron’s final resting place. Of the accident that had fused the shard to a human. That had been the hardest file to get into and it had cost him dearly. His energon supplies had been so depleted, he had been unable to support the symbiotes for a while and had been left vulnerable. The files the humans kept were vague, barely containing any viable information, and he had felt an unaccustomed wave of frustration at the fact. He had sacrificed too much for so little intel.

He learned of the enemy’s allies and kept tabs on them, though some were too well protected for his spies to remain long. The fact that one of his faction had defected to the enemy’s side was of no matter to him. He would perish with Megatron’s rebirth.

And he formed a plan.

It took a while to raise Megatron’s body shell from the bottom of the Laurentian abyss, to restore circuits and repair damage. While the humans patrolled the area that had become a grave to many Decepticons, they couldn’t be there all the time. Technology could be influenced and he had had little problem disabling the scanners and sensors, fooling them, as he had sunk to the bottom of the ocean and collected Megatron’s body.

All in secret, all with no pressure or time limit. He had time.

He was patient.

His spies kept him well-informed, especially of the human he was interested in. Yes, he was protected, but no protection from a weak Autobot could keep him out of his hands. He called the drone to him, keeping him close. He would be useful.

The remaining problem was the fact that he didn’t know much about possible remains of the Allspark within the human. Will Lennox didn’t venture out into the open a lot and infiltrating the Autobot base was foolish for now. What he had were blurry images and the fact that the human hadn’t been killed by the shard, which could easily have sliced him in two.

So maybe remnants of the shard were still there.

It was his hope.

Turning to his delicate network of spies, he opened a channel.

“Lazerbeak, report.”

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It was a glorious summer day. The sky was an impossible bright blue, there were hardly any clouds, and the sun’s rays were reflected off the ice patches that covered the rough and gray-brown flecked terrain. Here or there green showed. Flowers were rare, but they existed in the brief period of rather warm conditions up here in the north. It was a short, intense spectacle of colors until the snow came down again and ice covered the ground in a thick blanket.

Even now little flurries could be seen, mostly in the afternoon, and those who lived here year round had told Sam that autumn was coming with winter not far behind.

Sam Witwicky, PhD PhD, part of a group of scientists who had been hard at work at getting the Ghost-2 prepared for their second launch, gazed out the window and enjoyed the landscape in its currently colorful variations as long as it lasted.

He had come here a week ago since preparations now were reaching the final stage. Not only had the Ghost-2 been rebuilt – keeping her primary design mostly as the first model had been, just larger -- but a launch window had been found. A month from now they would go into space a second time, and this time it wasn’t just a trial run. This time was for real. They had a mission.

Sam smiled a little to himself, feeling the apprehension and nervousness again. He knew the ship was perfect. He knew she would fly like a dream. She had to. Tony Stark had made sure all his changes had been implemented as well and while some on the team had been doubtful, the latest batch of tests had shown just how perfect handling had become. Barbara Tanner, the Ghost-2’s pilot, had commented on it multiple times. She was in love with the new version.

One more month and they would be up there, Sam mused, gazing at the blue sky. Beyond the Earth’s atmosphere, in space, heading for the moon where the Ark was still kept hidden. And how cool was that?

He’d happily spend those four weeks in the middle of nowhere. He had a job to do here and he was good at it.

Sam felt Bumblebee’s agreement float through him and he smiled more. Bumblebee had come along, just like Hot Rod and both would accompany their human friends to the Autobot ship. Tony had buried himself in one of the labs in the underground base and hadn’t surfaced for three days until Hot Rod had pulled him out by force.

So far, Tony was still travelling back and forth between the base and LA. He had a company to run and a cover to keep. Former Secretary of Defense – now chairman of the board of directors of Stark Industries – John Keller, in alliance with Colonel Jim Rhodes and Tony’s personal assistant Pepper Potts, did his best to keep Tony’s schedule more or less clear, but now and then the CEO of a multi billion dollar company had to make an appearance.

Ironhide and Will Lennox had left for Maine the day Sam had been told about the new launch window and how they now had to prepare the Ghost-2 to make that window. Two days after that Sam was in the high Arctic, underground, hip deep in work. Jazz had arrived three days after that, with Barricade, much to everyone’s apprehension and surprise – except Sam’s. While the former Decepticon had never officially involved himself in the project, he wasn’t in the way either. Actually, he was helping, mostly with refresher courses for both the pilot and commander of the Ghost-2.

Snow flurries drifted down from the sky and Sam frowned a little at the now more numerous clouds. It was nothing worrisome and it didn’t hinder work, but he had planned on getting out – even if it meant bundling up – and watch the wildlife around the base.

Choosing the high Arctic hadn’t been a matter of personal preferences or good weather conditions. It had been more pragmatic. The first Ghost had been built and sent into space here over forty years ago. The operations center was still here and it had only taken some refurbishment, dusting off the shelves and installing a whole new set of greatly advanced computer systems.

The place had looked like an old and hollow sore underneath the deceivingly innocent surface of the Arctic. It had been and still was a difficult to reach spot; rugged and wild and even the Inuit hunters never set foot here. The wind howled on a good day and threatened to tear even the rocks from their foundations throughout the bad ones. Summer was brief, autumn went seamlessly into winter, and only a few more adventurous souls went for walks outside in the brief weeks of tamer nature.

Sam loved the solitary landscape. It gave him time to think, to get away from the machines that his technopathic mind so easily logged onto, and it was nice to be just himself with his thoughts and no runaway technopathy.

The base as such appeared like a large animal hunkered down to wait out the never-ending bad weather and the old launching site had been partially reclaimed by the local fauna and flora. Nothing had changed all that much since the last time Sam had been here. Appearances were kept perfectly.

Sam had never felt like he was boxed in or trapped underground. Everything was spacious and open, especially where Autobots might move through, and he had shared quarters with Bumblebee – like Hot Rod had bullied Tony into a place where the mech could fit, too. At least Tony called it ‘bullying’. Hot Rod called it practical and needed. Even here he was Tony’s guardian and he took his job seriously.

Stark grumbled and snarked and groused about it, but Sam had yet to see him actually trying to ditch his guardian and make off on his own.

The cover of a science station was still kept and the group of diligently working agents who played the parts of the scientists still did everything to maintain it perfectly. They went out, took readings, set up meters, studied the weather patterns, flocking birds, small mammals and whatnot. The rest was all done underground.

Sam drew himself out of his musings and turned back from the window. He still had mountains of work to do and he would have to start some time. He also had wanted to check in on Tony since breakfast, but he hadn’t found the time so far. The little break had evened out his mind and he felt well enough to dive back into work now.

Bumblebee met him on the lower level and accompanied him to the lab.

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About twenty miles outside the Arctic base, hidden from the sensors and alarms, a sleek, deadly looking machine moved stealthily through the rough weather. Red eyes surveyed the nothingness that surrounded him. A Cybertronian would call the form ‘raw beast mode’. It wasn’t even a protoform. It was adapted to the environment, but not as camouflaged as the mechs already on the planet. Despite its designation as a spy module, it rarely employed transscanning. Should deep camouflage be required, steps would be taken. Right now it was a waste of energon.

Finally the creature lifted its head, scanning the sky.

“Lazerbeak, report,” an inflectionless voice transmitted over the secure frequency that connected him to his symbiote brothers and their master.

“The humans are preparing their ship. Launch date unchanged.”

He received an affirmative, then the frequency fell silent again.

Lazerbeak remained where he was, waiting.

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Tony had never felt so good. It was almost ridiculous considering how woozy he had been just twenty-four hours ago. The long hours in business conferences, shareholder meetings and talking to various military heads, coupled with the fact that he hadn’t really seen his bed, or his cot, for a longer period of time because he kept working on his armor or models of space ships in his spare time, had played together. He had caught a few moments of dozing on the plane, but since he refused to shut off the Extremis all the data had run through his mind continuously. In the end Hot Rod had put his foot down and told him in no uncertain terms that he wouldn’t let Tony fly to the Arctic base unless he had slept at least eight hours.

It had been close to ten in the end, a testament to his level of exhaustion, and Tony had refused to acknowledge how badly he had needed it. Hot Rod hadn’t said a word, neither had Pepper, but he knew they were thinking the same.

Right now he felt like he could move mountains with his bare hands. Or shovel through the Arctic snow field with a household plough. Mainlining coffee for the past three hours had nothing to do with it. Honestly. Not a thing. And they made one hell of a good coffee here. One of the science assistants had mentioned Blue Hawaii and Tony knew how horribly expensive the stuff was. And good. Damn good. He had sent Pepper a note to pack up a big crate of the stuff and ship it here.

Working on a project had never gone so smoothly like in the last few days before his arrival here. All the puzzle pieces were clicking into place at last and with the launch window coming closer and closer, Tony knew they had to.

The Extremis was a huge asset. He could multi-task like no one else, and combined with Sam’s technopathy, the two men were making progress. Finch Tomczyk, Laura Maitland and the team were their back-up and with Jazz and Bumblebee green-lighting new installments, Stark was confident that they could make the launch window easily.

Someone placed a plate of sandwiches next to him and Tony looked up, shooting Sam a small smile. The whole pot of coffee was very welcome, too.

“You’re running on all cylinders,” Sam remarked.

Tony shrugged, drinking the hot liquid. It tasted like heaven. And intense. Like jolting his nerves even more awake.

“When I’m on a roll, I’m on a roll.” He frowned as he discovered that he was alone. “Where’s everyone?”

Sam chuckled. “You really are absorbed once you get working. Finch called Laura away to test some of the new developments you made. Jazz is talking to Walker. Barricade is still in the simulation chamber with Barb. The others are going over specs from the Ark one more time with Bumblebee.”

“Oh. Right. Okay.”

Tony let the fingers of his right hand fly over the keyboard as he held the mug with his left, sipping at it. The wire model of the Ghost-2 and some of the parts he had ‘removed’ twisted and changed and then realigned.

It was the finished model, the one that was currently in the last stages of assembly several levels above them. He switched to the model of the Ark and Sam leaned over his shoulder, studying the Autobot vessel.

The second flight of the Ghost-2 wasn’t just for a brief visit. This was a real mission with real work. They had a week to make it and then return.

“You think this will work?” Sam asked quietly.

Tony was silent for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah. She might look like a heap of junk, but it’s alien junk and she’s still running. They didn’t dump some wreck on us. The Ark might be old and outdated by Cybertronian standards, but for us she’s worth more than all the defense satellites of this planet.”

Sam had to agree. Especially since according to Jazz and all the tech specs they had studied, turning the Ark into a surveillance station was no great feat. Katie had jokingly called it their future moonbase, the dream of all science fiction authors out there, and it was true. Plans were already in the making to station a crew up there permanently in the future, using the Ghost-2 as a shuttle.

But that was the future.

Now was now, and they had to get to the Ark first, start work on powering her up and get everything running, then they could talk about what to do next.

Sam’s comm beeped.

“Meeting,” he sighed.

Tony smirked. “Have fun,” was all he said before he immersed himself in work again.

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The morning of the launch had started with three inches of snow that had come down overnight. Mother Nature had dumped the whiteness on them without any regard for the mission, it seemed. People underground didn’t really care about what happened outside, unless they had to go there. Sam didn’t mind snowstorms as long as he didn’t have to be outside, experiencing one first hand. Sitting in a warm base and watching the snow outside was preferable.

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Tony, in his Iron Man armor, stuck out like a sore thumb among the astronauts of the Ghost-2. Their space suits were leaning more toward the conservative NASA style, though there had been modifications. There was less bulk, for one. And the color was a more silvery gray.

Helmet in one hand, Tony watched the team around Commander Kyle Walker assemble. He had checked their background himself, even though he knew they already had been approved and had flown the first mission. Maybe it was his paranoia, maybe it was just him being careful. All had checked out okay. Not much of a surprise. Banachek was kind of tight when it came to such things.

Flight preparations were done professionally and without much fuss. Tony stood back and watched everyone, smiled at Bowman, who had the honor of flying the Ghostbuster again, and was told to keep an eye on WiFi. The little cell phone mech was dumped into his hands as Bowman walked back to the pre-flight checks, and WiFi looked indignantly at him.

“Hey, don’t blame me. I don’t get to be in on the action either.”

WiFi chirped.

“Sure, I get to fly, but so do you. Don’t tell me you’re not in the cockpit of the Ghostbuster.”

The Nokia’s optics flashed and he seemed to puff out his little chest. Tony smiled.

“See?”

He beeped accusingly.

“Hey, space is not all it’s cracked up to be.”

Another beep.

“Then again, yeah, I’m lying.” He chuckled.

And how strange was it to talk to a sentient cell phone? Actually, not all too much. Tony had become fluent in WiFi-speak, which was mainly because he used the Extremis to help him translate the chirrups and whistles. Bowman had no such luxury, but the captain had grown so accustomed to the Nokia’s language, he simply knew what his little friend wanted.

WiFi chirped again and settled on his palm, watching everything with interested optics.

It was an hour later that Bowman joined them again and the little Nokia warbled a greeting, though it sounded rather miffed.

“I’ll make it up to you,” the captain promised.

WiFi transformed and he slipped the phone into his pocket. Tony smirked a little.

“Hey, not a word,” Bowman warned, grinning nevertheless. “You have your own problems, pal.”

“My ‘problem’ is a different one from yours.”

“Probably. So, nervous?”

“No, not really.”

Tony was excited, but not nervous. He had spent the last night tinkering with the suit, talking to Hot Rod, and in the morning he had tried avoiding Pepper, which hadn’t worked. She wasn’t here in person, but that didn’t stop her from sending him text messages or emails, sometimes forwarding all the junk mail just to give him an idea how pissed off she was. He knew she didn’t approve of his ‘idiot adventure’, but she had stopped telling him so at every corner.

Hot Rod would be part of the team going up to the Ark, which was mollifying Pepper only a little. Aside from the human crew and the two passengers, Tony and Sam, Bumblebee and Jazz had been chosen because of size and weight matters.

“Everything’s ready,” Sam interrupted his thoughts.

Tony turned and bit back a smart remark about Sam’s armor. They had developed the armor from the Iron Man suit and while it looked basically like Tony’s, it wasn’t at all like his. Sam had chosen a different helmet design, one with a visor band instead of two eye slits, a rounder head design, and a different color scheme. It was the color scheme that had Tony teasing his younger friend for days. Yellow and black. Bumblebee’s. Could the kid make it any more obvious?

Hot Rod in turn had teased Tony back about changing his color scheme to red and yellow – instead of gold -- to match the Iron Man armor. Tony had threatened to make his life hell if he ever did. That he found a model of the possible paint job in his email had only let him rant about how stupid a flame design looked on an Audi for about an hour. Hot Rod had enjoyed the snark. Tony had to confess he had, too.

Sam’s armor was capable of flight, like Tony’s, but the arc reactor was installed inside the collapsible suit. There weren’t as many offense weapons, but the same defense, and then some. The armor had been constructed to suit Sam’s technopathic abilities, so in a way it gave him immediate access to everything with just a thought. The computer program running the more complicated HUD had been adjusted to Sam’s personally. Unlike Tony, who had Jarvis uploaded into the suit, Sam had no backseat rider.

Tony nodded now and followed Sam to where the crew of the Ghost-2 was waiting for their shuttle to get them to the space ship. The Autobots were already on their way and probably loaded into the cargo hold. Bowman was waiting for the Ghostbuster.

And the launch window was coming up.

 

tbc...

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Barricade watched the bustle around the human ship, keeping sharp optics on proceedings. He had spent the last week with the pilot and co-pilot, as well as the rest of the crew, reviewing their flight skills and teaching those who had never flown the Ghost-2 before how to handle her. That had been Sam and Tony. Stark had quickly and easily learned the necessary procedures due to the Extremis, and Sam had logged on to the main computer with his technopathic abilities.

Now everything was ready and Barricade felt unwell knowing his spark-bonded would leave for the Ark. Recent events had shown him and Jazz just how closely knitted they were, how much their lives had become one, and Barricade would not lose his partner if he could help it.

“Deep thoughts?” a teasing voice interrupted his musings.

He glowered at the silver Autobot, caught. “No.”

“Grumpy, moody, growly voice… yeah. That’s you on your best days, Cade.”

He refused to be baited.

Jazz stood beside him, apparently watching the same bustle as him, but Barricade wasn’t fooled.

“We could squeeze you in, y’know.”

“Not interested.”

“Might be cozy.”

He glowered more.

“And it beats sitting on your butt in the middle of the Arctic, right?”

“I prefer remaining here.” Like he would prefer Jazz remaining here as well. But Jazz had a mission and they had to complete it.

“Okay…” Jazz leaned imperceptibly closer. “I’ll be back in a flash, Cade. And nothing will happen. Even if it should, I’m not fresh off the Academy.”

Red optics flared at the implications hidden in the words and Jazz smiled. His fingers briefly skimmed along Barricade’s claws. Then he was gone, walking over to the Ghost-2.

Barricade remained behind, slightly rattled, furious at himself for his weakness and feeling softer emotions. He finally turned abruptly, scaring some technicians, and stalked away.

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Lift off was unspectacular. At least to those who had flown the Ghost-2 before.

As before the Ghost-2 had been strapped on the back of their modified cargo plane, which had been given the nick-name ‘Ghostbuster’ by everyone at Project. While the space ship was bigger than its previous model, mainly to accommodate the Autobots, it was still fitting well enough onto the Ghostbuster.

"Control, this is Ghost-2 zero two, request clearance for take-off."

"Roger zero one. Hold steady for lift-off. Control, Ghostbuster, fire engines and taxi over to lift off position."

Underneath the Ghost-2, the huge cargo plane fired its engines. A low, steady hum could be heard as the thrusters warmed up, and she eased toward lift off coordinates.

"Ghost-2 zero two, you are clear for lift off," Control's voice then crackled through the intercom."

"Roger."

The low hum slowly increased into a full, deep roar. The frame of the Ghost-2 shuddered as she was lifted off, a natural behavior for the ship as it worked off the stress it was put under through the lift off procedure.

"Clearing ground area, adjusting course to preset coordinate," Barbara reported.

She was not yet in control, but Ghostbuster and Ghost-2 were interconnected. Both pilots could see what the other ship was doing.

“Control, Ghostbuster. Lift-off went without a hitch,” Bowman’s calm voice could be heard.

"Roger that, Ghostbuster. Chase planes have taken off and will join you in a moment."

“Ghost-2, this is Ghostbuster. We are reaching separation point.”

“Roger that, Ghostbuster. Thanks for the smooth ride,” Barbara replied, smiling herself.

“Always a pleasure, Ghost-2,” Bowman replied.

There was a little tremor as the Ghostbuster separated from the Ghost-2. The space vessel dipped for half a second, then the ship lunged forward. Kyle felt it buck slightly once more, then Barbara initiated the last stage of their flight into space. The engines began to scream as she forced the nose further up, going into a steep, straight up flight.

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Tony knew he was grinning like a maniac behind his helmet and he was glad for the faceplate. Walker would probably think he had lost it.

He was in space.

He was flying toward the Moon.

He was going to walk around an alien ship!

Tony’s excitement knew no bounds and he had never been so incredibly thrilled. Well, maybe throughout his first flight with the armor. That had been the perfect adrenaline junky high. Now… now he sat in the spectator’s seat, the passenger row, and watched the crew of the Ghost-2 prepare everything for their rendezvous with the Ark.

Unlike Apollo or Shuttle flights, the Ghost-2 didn’t do anything slow. Where the Apollo missions had taken days to reach the moon, this was a matter of hours.

Jazz, Hot Rod and Bumblebee were in the newly constructed cargo hold of the Ghost-2, waiting, communicating with Walker or the crew. Sam was strapped in next to him, silent. There was no reading his features either because of the helmet and Tony suspected he was checking the ship and talking to Bumblebee.

“Comfortable?” Walker asked as he glanced at Tony.

“Very.”

“It’ll be another hour until we see the Ark. Communication has already been established.”

“With what?”

Walker smiled. “The main computer. We can sort of talk to it. It’s like baby talk. The interface only allows us a rather basic communication; enough to steer the Ark, but not to enter complex orders.”

That sounded rather backward, Tony decided and came up with a dozen solutions to that problem. No one had told him about the interface, so he hadn’t really lost a thought about it. That would change for future missions.

“The Autobots will do the rest,” the commander continued. “Jazz told us that we can land inside the Ark. No space walk necessary.”

There went that hope. Tony had been looking forward to it. Oh well…

His mood must have washed over to Hot Rod via Extremis because he heard his guardian chuckle. Tony grimaced. Great. Just great.

::As long as you’re having fun:: he sent.

::If there’s time, we can squeeze in some space walking for you:: Hot Rod told him, still amused.

::How gracious::

::Hey, it’s for test purposes, right? As your guardian I need to be sure your armor is space-worthy::

Tony grinned. ::Yeah::

He knew Hot Rod was mirroring the grin. ::Yeah::

“Jarvis?” he spoke out loud.

“Yes, sir?”

“You’re still there. Good.”

“Now where would I go, sir?”

“Funny. Har-har.”

“I thought so myself.”

Tony grimaced.

“You and Hot Rod are spending way too much time together.”

“I thought you approved of my interaction with our guest.”

Tony rolled his eyes behind the mask, glad no one was listening in on the discussion. “Whatever. You know this is a test for you, too, right?”

“I’m perfectly aware of it. I’m currently experiencing no malfunctions.”

“Good.”

Jarvis was downloaded into the armor, though not completely. Storing an AI like Jarvis required more space than the core unit of the armor could ever manage. Tony usually called the abbreviated version of Jarvis his ‘battle computer’. Jarvis, the main AI on Earth in Malibu, would download whatever the battle computer had stored after the suit was hooked up for maintenance. Right now, with space between them and no direct connection for the next seven days or so, no download was possible until their return.

Tony had reconfigured the battle computer to adjust to those changes and he hoped matters wouldn’t just blow up in his face – literally.

Looking out the window, Tony felt the old giddiness again. He was in space!

He smiled. Yeah. Amazing.

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“Human vessel launched.”

“Lazerbeak, return,” Soundwave ordered.

Lazerbeak turned and headed away from the Arctic base. He was no longer needed.

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Soundwave filed the information he had received away. With the Ghost-2, three Autobots were now out of the picture.

“Ravage, resume covert observation,” he told another symbiote who was keeping an eye on the Autobot base. “Prepare for phase 2.”

He received a brief confirmation and turned back to his own tasks at hand.

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The Ark was massive. There was no other description for it. And butt-ugly. Hot Rod had been right that she was nothing special, but to a human who had only ever seen Earth technology, she was amazing.

She had tiny, stubby wings, a spheroid main body with front and back additions that looked liked cobbled together out of different pieces, and was totally missing a kind of aerodynamic slenderness. But in space there was no air and no need for beauty, only functionality. The Ark was as functional as she was sturdy and enduring. She had mainly been a transport rather than a warship, but that had changed with the war. Now she possessed a few powerful cannons and very strong defensive shields. Tony had talked to Ratchet and had discovered that he had been the one to enhance them to make her even more formidable.

“Wow,” he heard himself whisper as Barbara guided the Ghost-2 smoothly closer.

Sam was leaning forward, equally impressed.

“She’s amazing,” Walker agreed. “I didn’t believe it when I saw her the first time and I always get the shivers remembering her approach.”

“And now we get to step aboard,” Tony said softly.

The HUD was alive with data as they came closer. While his scanners were hindered by the Ghost-2’s hull, he still got enough data.

Barbara listened to Jazz guide her to where the cargo doors would be and then they waited as the Autobots’ second-in-command sent the key sequence. There was a moment of nothing happening, then the Ark seemed to split open on the side as massive doors slid away.

“Open sesame,” Gabe Craig joked.

“All right, let’s go inside,” Walker decided and nodded at his pilot.

She steered the ship through the gigantic doors and into the belly of the Ark. It was small, almost lost inside the hangar of the ancient Autobot ship. Tanner landed it smoothly and without so much as a jarring, then secured the Ghost-2 and prepared for disembarking. The others had already unstrapped and were preparing to leave. Tony was actually almost bouncing on the spot.

“Down,” Sam teased. “You’ll have a whole week to explore.”

“Don’t tell me you aren’t excited. This is space, kid! And an alien vessel.”

The glowing eye slits seemed to brighten for a second.

The Autobots were rolling out of the Ghost-2 and transformed. Jazz walked to an access panel and entered his code to reactivate the computer core. Hot Rod was sweeping a brief look over the dark and silent hangar, then nodded at Tony, who had automatically joined him.

“Excited?” he wanted to know.

“No, bored,” was the wry reply.

“Thought as much.”

Tony scanned with the instruments at his disposal. The data was filled with alien readings and it would take him a long time to wade through it, so he just saved it for later evaluation.

The main door at the other end of the hangar, the one leading into the ship, shuddered and then started to open.

“Welcome aboard,” Stark muttered.

They were in.

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Stepping inside the Ark felt like he was entering a gigantic cave. The hangar bay dwarfed their own ship and Sam felt suddenly unimportant, tiny… like he could get lost in a crack in the floor. He almost automatically stayed close to Bumblebee, and one look into the blue optics of his partner told him Bumblebee was aware of what he was thinking and feeling. Sam smiled sheepishly behind the helmet’s visor.

::It’s okay:: Bumblebee reassured him.

::Yeah, well… it’s just… huge. Friggin’ huge!::

And dark. Only the emergency lights had come on and most of the hangar was under a blanket of shadows and darkness. It was eerie. Add to that the fact that there was no breathable air and they had to remain inside their suits, it was a little overwhelming. Claustrophobia mixed with agoraphobia. Glancing at Tony, Sam saw that he was keeping closer to Hot Rod, too, though in Tony’s case it was probably without conscious thought and the man would deny feeling like he was nothing more than an ant if asked.

“Wow,” Freddy Hamilton almost-whispered. “This is… cool.”

Barbara chuckled. “It’s impressive, yeah. And it’s freaking me out”

Sam smiled behind his helmet. All humans were probably feeling this way.

They passed through the massive hangar doors that were easily thick enough to squish Sam without leaving any body part outside. The corridor they entered now was equally dim-lit and stretched into infinity. The lights came on as they passed a section and luckily stayed on.

::The Ark was programmed to conserve energon:: Bumblebee explained. ::She’s old. Really old. And with next to no maintenance we powered her down when we left. The brief trip from Mars to the moon wasn’t enough to refill her energon supply::

Sam nodded. It still felt like some horror B-movie where the monster would jump out after the next corner. Bumblebee sent amusement at the thought

Jazz was in the lead, striding purposefully toward wherever they were going – command center, Sam recalled – and Hot Rod brought up the rear, with the humans between them.

Walker whistled softly, breaking the silence. “So amazing,” he murmured.

“And old,” Tony muttered, head swiveling to scan everything with the help of the Iron man suit.

“Compared to us, this is high tech of the future,” Walker contradicted.

Tony shrugged. “Not by much.”

Kyle frowned behind his transparent visor, but said nothing. Jazz only smiled.

They arrived at the command center and when the bridge lit up, Sam knew he was staring. His technopathic mind itched to access what he could see, it wanted to immerse itself in the newness, and he was hard-pressed not to just give in to temptation. Almost desperately he clung to his living anchor and Bumblebee sent warmth and support. If this was the Ark powered down, Sam would be in deep, deep trouble when they brought every system back online.

::Sam?::

::This is… like all you guys packed together::

Bumblebee cast him a puzzled look, then understanding dawned. ::Do you think you can manage?::

He smiled wanly, even though no one could see him. ::I hope so::

Bumblebee didn’t appear very happy. He looked at Jazz, who frowned all of a sudden too. His optics slid to Sam.

“Sam?” he asked out loud.

The others turned their attention to the youngest member of this expedition. Sam groaned.

“I’ll be fine,” he said defensively. “I need a moment to adjust and if you bring everything up slowly, I can fine-tune the shields.”

“Sure?” Jazz wanted to know.

“Very.”

“Well, okay. It’s your call.”

Sam nodded.

Tony walked over to them, face as unreadable as Sam’s behind the mask, but the way he had tilted his head a little showed the question.

“Don’t tell me you haven’t been tempted,” Sam muttered.

It got him a chuckle. “Of course I’m tempted.”

“And you’re already inside,” Jazz remarked. He grinned when Iron Man looked up at him. “The Ark is registering an unknown log-in. Without really checking in-depth I know it’s you, right?”

Tony grumbled something and Jazz smirked.

“I’ll get the old lady up and running,” the specialist continued. “It’ll take a while. Sam, if this gets too much, break it off, okay?”

“I’m not a child,” Sam muttered.

“No, but you’re as stubborn as humans come. I don’t want you zoning out.”

“I’ll keep an eye on him,” Bumblebee promised.

Jazz gave a nod and walked over to the control and command station. It was time to reboot everything and check the systems. They hadn’t been aboard the Ark in over a decade and aside from a brief access to maneuver her to this spot, there had been nothing at all.

Bumblebee gave Sam a little nudge. The human shot him a miffed look that no one could see anyway, and followed his guardian to one a dark and dead looking station.

Tony remained behind, but he wasn’t alone. Hot Rod stood a little away, appearing busy but still keeping an optic on his own charge.

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After the initial explosion of giddiness that he was in space, aboard an alien ship, and could explore, Tony had taken to looking around the Ark. This was an alien space ship after all. He would be damned if he didn’t get to see more than a hangar and a hallway. That it meant that Hot Rod was tagging along didn’t bother him. The mech was helpful in accessing closed off sections, even if Stark could have manipulated the systems with Extremis until they caved. Then again, that might get him a headache since everything was new and alien and the Extremis needed to adjust to it all. He wasn’t fluent in plain Cybertronian, the non-hybrid version, and that sucked.

“This is amazing,” he murmured as he looked out of a view port.

He could see the moon below, a ragged, gray landscape that only a few people had stepped on before. He was so tempted to go outside, try out the suit, maybe take a walk on the moon, but he knew the mission came first. If there was time to play around a little, he wouldn’t let the opportunity slide by.

Hot Rod had joined him and was gazing at the moonscape with an almost wistful expression. Tony had never asked, but from the few times he had seen Hot Rod interact with the others, he suspected he wasn’t one of the mechs in the age-range of Ironhide, Ratchet or Prime. He was younger, maybe Bumblebee’s age – which still made him millennia old; maybe even older. The youth shone through sometimes.

“We could take a stroll,” Tony suggested, an audible grin in his voice.

“You would,” was the wry remark.

“It’s from a completely scientific point of view.”

“Sure. Nothing fun about it.”

“Nope.”

“So you want to take readings and measurements and maybe, if you can find the time, take the armor out for a spin?”

“Exactly. The latter is highly unlikely, though. All that work…”

Hot Rod chuckled with amusement. “Of course.”

Tony sat down on the ledge of the port hole, legs dangling. “You didn’t arrive with the Ark, right?”

“No. We don’t really need a ship. We all have basically the same transformation capabilities in protoform, but it’s easier and more comfortable by ship.”

“I guess.”

“Optimus took the Ark with just a minimal crew to follow the Allspark. Everyone else fled from Cybertron by whatever means necessary, or followed Megatron aboard the Nemesis, or took refuge in the ruins.”

“You think there’s still someone back home? Keeping the lights on?” Tony wanted to know.

“Yes. But Cybertron is hardly what it was before. There are always those who thrive from death and darkness, but whoever was capable fled.”

“Must be hard,” Stark said softly. “I’ve seen my share of a war, and that was only in a small part of this planet. To think a whole world under siege…”

Hot Rod’s blue optics had dimmed a little and he nodded.

“If it should ever be possible, I’d still love to see your planet,” Tony told him quietly.

“If it ever becomes possible, I’ll show it to you,” was the solemn promise.

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Soundwave stood beside the ragged looking corpse of the once mighty Decepticon leader. Megatron’s shell hadn’t survived in very good condition and despite his resources he had yet to actually replace what had been torn off. The gaping wound in the chest where the Allspark had torn the mech apart and extinguished his spark, was dark. He had cleaned it out, inspected the circuitry, and found most of it beyond use.

“Glit, report,” he ordered.

The symbiote turned from his work, red optics bright. “I’m almost done with the new spark chamber. The connectors will be next.”

Soundwave nodded. With a new spark inserted into the salvaged body, regeneration might just work. It was all a long shot, but logically speaking it could be successful. The Allspark was the source of all their sparks and Megatron’s life essence could be restored if he had a viable spark chamber and a base for it.

And even if it didn’t work, Soundwave mused, the possession of the last Allspark shard would give him more leverage than whatever Starscream, the treacherous lieutenant, could ever come up with.

It was time to launch phase two.

“Ratbat, Buzzsaw, phase two,” he transmitted.

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Work with the Ark had gone as planned. The computer system was only half as bad off as suspected, but not as good as some had hoped. Jazz had spent most of the day – they were on twenty-four hour rotations – convincing several subsystems to interact with the main systems as they should. Walker and his crew were feeding programs into the Ark’s main computer and adjusting what needed to be adjusted, then running tests with the base back home. So far, communication was rather good, but there were breakdowns or blackouts and it needed to be dealt with. It was all very fickle sometimes and frustrating, too, but so far it wasn’t beyond their abilities to deal with it.

Jazz checked on the progress of his latest installation and smiled. It all looked very good. With Tony and Sam they had help that was very capable of dealing with problematic situations, but he knew he couldn’t overtax both humans. And both were prone to work-obsession.

The soft, steady hum of the systems told the first lieutenant that the Ark was in such a good shape right now, they would be easily able to fly it back to Cybertron. But that wasn’t their goal. They had to keep her in a stable position, locked against unwanted intrusions, and able to act as a relay, a defense and a deep space scanner.

Prime’s plan was also to let the ship look for a possible Decepticon presence on Earth, but given the distance and the fact that whoever might have crashed on the planet was keeping himself hidden, it was more or less a wild hope.

A row of information flashed over one screen and Jazz nodded, pleased.

“Looking good, Kyle,” he told Walker through the intercom. “Everything is working without more than a slight hiccup.”

“We’re working on curing those,” Walker replied, voice tinny.

“I want to run the first test segment in an hour.”

“Fine with us. I’m on my up to the bridge anyway. Barbara tells me we’re good to go on your mark, hiccups or no hiccups.”

Jazz smiled. “All right.”

If things proceeded as smoothly as before, the first mission would be a complete success.

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It hadn’t been too difficult to infiltrate the humans’ organization called the Department of Defense. They were too confident of themselves, too sure that the Decepticon threat wasn’t here yet. They were looking at the sky for a massive offensive, but they had already forgotten that smaller spy teams had come first.

Like now.

The mechanoid symbiote called Rumble was no different from the perished mech named Frenzy, though his sole purpose was to serve Soundwave and work as a spy. His loyalties could not be swayed.

It was Rumble who had managed to download all the information that had allowed Soundwave to find Megatron. He was proud of it. He had also located Scorponok from the humans’ prior attempt to find the drone.

Scorponok was needed for stage two.

Listening to the chatter amongst the humans, Rumble still kept a close optic on his brothers. Every single one had a purpose, either to spy, to collect, to watch or to guard. Ravage had early on left the Arctic station since their target wasn’t there, despite earlier confirmation that it would be. Lazerbeak had remained to keep his sensors peeled, to make sure the Autobots would be aboard the human space craft. They were and while Soundwave would have preferred the traitor to be among them, Barricade’s presence on Earth was of no consequence. Howlback was at the human base known as Nellis, the closest to the Autobot base. Infiltration was complete. Ravage had taken up position as close to the Autobot base as possible to strike when necessary.

Soundwave’s presence had nearly been revealed to the enemy due to the behavior of three other symbiotes he had sent to explore a secret base Rumble had discovered in the files of Sector Seven, a place where they might have been able to hide, to work on Megatron, where they would have had resources. But Beastbox, Squawktalk and Overkill had managed to not only get seen several times – and had to kill the humans – they had also nearly killed two of the fleshlings by accident and without necessity.

Soundwave had recalled them and they were currently with their master and wouldn’t be released for a mission unless it was absolutely necessary. From Soundwave’s plans it would be too soon in Rumble’s opinion, which was rather low when it came to those symbiotes. They were simple mechs and he rarely interacted with them on missions, but they fulfilled their purpose.

Turning back to his task, Rumble pushed the thoughts about the three symbiotes in question aside.

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It was like looking at a beautifully woven rug. Intricate patterns with silky strings of different colors together forming a whole. But this pattern was moving, ever-changing, but still it made so much sense! He watched it, felt it whisper to him, and when he thought about tracking something particular interesting, his senses seemed to shift naturally to follow this interest.

Coding. There was coding and program lines and data clusters. He could touch them and look at them, he could reach out and work with them as if everything was physical.

Sam was breathless with what he had accessed, what he could do. He was looking through wires and cables, into camera lenses from the camera’s point of view. He was watching… himself and the others. He was high above and aware of so much. He felt every little twitch of the programs.

::Sam!::

He pushed all the data and information into the back of his mind and he almost laughed, feeling giddy with the information overload.

::SAM!::

The strong presence was there, inserting itself neatly between Sam and the open access points of the Ark, and Sam took a deep, shuddering breath.

::Bee…:: he whispered and clung to his partner’s presence like a drowning person.

::Sam, are you okay?::

::Yeah…::

Bumblebee didn’t believe him and he didn’t really believe himself. All that he felt was so intense, so much so suddenly, and it was incredibly hard to say ‘no’ to the temptation the Ark provided. For an insane moment he wondered how Cybertron would feel to him, a planet made up of machines and computers and AIs… and then he locked that thought away. It would probably turn his brain into mush.

::Do you want to leave?::

::No!::

They had so much work to do and he had come along because he was a) an engineer, b) fluent in Cybertronian, as well as knew the technology, and c) because of the technopathy.

::I can do this. I just need time to adjust. It’s like back when I first got this. I was distracted by a toaster or a microwave.::

::Sam, I hate to break it to you, but the Ark is hardly a toaster::

He burst out laughing and shot his partner a look. ::Really?:: he chuckled.

::Really:: was the dead-pan reply.

::Well, good. I was afraid I was the only one who had noticed::

Bumblebee gave him a friendly nudge, then stayed close enough to intervene should Sam get lost again.

An hour later Sam admitted defeat and to the fact that he needed rest. Bumblebee didn’t actually voice the ‘I told you so’, but Sam heard it nevertheless as he returned to the Ghost-2, accompanied by his guardian.

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The engine room was like a dream come true for Tony. He wasn’t just a science geek, he was a hands-on science nerd. He loved machines and he loved tinkering, and seeing a real life alien propulsion system had his mind go into overdrive. Hot Rod could have performed the Macarena and he wouldn’t even have noticed. He was simply in too deep.

His head ached a little, but it was no more than what he had felt after a serious night of drinking. Actually, that had been worse. Now it was a background hum, like a live wire, telling him of electronics near by. The Autobots were complicated representations of code, all alien and unfamiliar, and their rapid-fire thoughts were hard to track. He couldn’t hear them think, just access data transfers. And those transfers he didn’t understand most of the time.

Everything aboard the Ark was open to him. He could just reach out and log himself in, be part of the whole system.

Tony had never been so elated.

He wanted to explore it all. He wanted to touch and taste and caress and hear and…

Something jerked him out of what seemed like a virtual reality.

“Tony!”

He blinked and looked dazedly at Hot Rod. The mech was kneeling in front of him, blue optics intense. One large hand was placed carefully around Iron Man’s shoulder and back.

“Tony, are you okay?”

“Uh, yeah. I’m fine. Just…”

His mind had cast out all by itself, driven by curiosity. He recognized the ship’s main computer and it was so easy to hack into it. He had never done anything different. Instead of using his fingers, his mind did the tapping on invisible keys.

“Stark!”

He jerked again. “I’m okay,” he answered automatically, pushing the data feed back into his subconscious mind.

It was simply there. There was no changing the fact that the data was always running through his head. His re-wired head.

By now Jazz was there as well. Part of Tony wondered if Hot Rod had alerted him. Jazz was the mission leader, Prime’s second-in-command, and it would only be logical for Hot Rod to contact him.

“You’re not. What’s wrong, Tony?”

“Nothing!” he replied defensively, thinking ‘Off’ almost simultaneously.

And things went back to normal.

Cool.

“I’m fine,” he repeated.

Jazz didn’t look like he believed it, but he let it slide. Tony knew that the specialist wouldn’t forget it, though. Neither would his baby-sitter. Hot Rod was watching him with eagle eyes and a misgiving expression. If he could, he would interfere with the Extremis and probably shut it off.

Stark concentrated on where he was again. Aboard an alien space ship, working on making the interface between ship and their new control system work. Extremis was still working ceaselessly inside him, storing information like his organic brain did every second. Like his brain, the P-Cells of the Extremis discarded information that wasn’t relevant and would only rise to full operational status when he wanted them to.

Demonstratively turning back to work, Tony ignored Hot Rod’s huff and Jazz’s mutter about stubborn humans and went to work once more. They all had their duties and work laid out for them and he wanted to get his own finished. The interface would allow humans to access the Ark’s systems without Autobot help. Including by remote control. It would enable the Artic base to get a reading from the massive ship, to use her as the satellite defense system she would be in the future. For that they had to get the Cybertronian systems to interact with the human command codes.

Stark knew Cybertronian tech just as well as Sam, though his expertise ran more deeply when it came to the hybrid systems Stark Industries had developed in the last decade. Where Sam had a natural understanding, Tony was simply excessively good at picking up new stuff and incorporating it in his thinking. Extremis helped and he wouldn’t be able to work as quickly and efficiently without it, but it had backlashes that were hell.

Like headaches later on. He was joining Sam’s club in that regard. The young technopath would probably come down with a migraine before the day was over.

Without missing a step or appearing out of focus, Tony delved into the intricacies of the main computer.

The feel it was… beautiful. Just perfect. It was everything he had ever dreamed it should be. Smooth, powerful and filled with energy. He reveled in the feeling, caressing the ‘presence’ and feeling the echoes of his touches.

Wow…

His mind accessed whatever Tony wanted it to. It felt strange to be right in the middle of a machine, but like with a HUD he looked at all the functions and he could reach out and with thoughts like keystrokes he hacked what he wanted.

He caught echoes of what Jazz was doing, reprogramming the Ark, shutting down what wasn’t necessary in her stationary orbit, implanting the programs developed by Ratchet and Ironhide on Earth, making the Autobot ship a small, defendable fortress that sat in the shadow of Earth’s moon.

Someone nudged him.

Tony drew himself out of the tantalizing web of Cybertronian tech and glared at Hot Rod.

“You know, sometimes you really are a nag.”

“I didn’t say anything,” the mech defended himself.

“You did it on purpose! I’m fine, okay? I’m really, really fine!” Tony wished the glare had an effect. The helmet stopped it from getting anywhere and Hot Rod had really never been very impressed by it anyway.

“Sure.”

And he hated it when the Autobot got like that. There was just no winning against him in any way! Worse than Pepper! Pepper Potts was at least human. Well, Tony suspected she was. He could be mistaken, considering the way she looked at him once in a while.

“You ignored the call for a break,” Hot Rod went on. “And you told Jarvis to shut up about it.”

“I didn’t…” Tony stopped and checked the time, shocked when he found three hours had passed without his notice. “Oh. So Jarvis came running to you?”

“I did not,” came the indignant reply from the mostly silent AI. “I pointed out to your guardian that you seemed to be lost in your work.”

“Right.”

Hot Rod smiled. “Sam’s crashing for a while. Bumblebee took him back to the Ghost-2. Jazz managed to pressurize a section of the Ark for you guys. It has air with the right oxygen saturation and the crew set up camp already.”

Tony muttered something under his breath, but he refused to be lured back into the Ark’s system’s again. With another worthless glare he followed his so-called guardian – really, he was a baby-sitter! – to the section in question. It was actually a relief to get out of the armor, but he wouldn’t confess it.

Never.

“Shall I run diagnostics, sir?” Jarvis asked politely.

“Whatever. My opinion doesn’t matter with you two anyway.”

“I beg to differ, sir. Your opinion matters a lot to me. I was simply worried about your well-being.”

Tony sighed and shook his head. “What have I ever done to deserve two nagging baby-sitters?”

Hot Rod smirked, Jarvis was simply silent, but if he had had facial features, Tony could just imagine him smiling as well.

Grumbling about treacherous AIs and nagging mechs he made his way to his cot.

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Sam breathed a huge sigh of relief when he could remove the helmet. It felt almost claustrophobic after a while. No air on his skin but the recycled oxygen from the tanks, no real feeling from the outside world, and the HUD was driving him nuts. How Tony managed it was beyond him.

Removing the armor, dressed only in the skintight, black material of the underarmor, Sam collapsed onto the cot in the hangar bay. It was more like a narrow ledge and he had doubts he could sleep on it, but right now he just wanted to sit somewhere.

Bumblebee crouched down beside him, running a calming finger over Sam’s back. The touch was felt even more intensely because of the underarmor. The material seemed to conduct touch rather well. It felt like his own skin, just that it was more or less unbreakable if not cut by very sharp objects.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Yeah. It was just a bit much.”

The Ghost-2 was a known factor and despite all the tech, it was more like a shield than a distraction. Sam’s mind was leaning close to Bumblebee, anchoring himself naturally in the other’s spark, and Bumblebee let him. Sam let his body tilt a little into the light touch and closed his eyes. It was nice. It was warm. It was relaxing.

“You should sleep,” Bumblebee suggested.

He made a non-committal noise.

The mech let his amusement leak through the bond and Sam cracked an eye open.

“You mind?” he yawned.

Bumblebee transformed instead and opened a door. Sam crawled into the Camaro, lying down on the passenger seat that had been tilted back, and closed his eyes.

He was out like a light a moment later.

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Tony Stark, Hot Rod decided, was a big kid with an even bigger brain and a bank account that defied the definition of ‘normal’. Nothing about the man was normal and probably had never been. While he had known Stark for only a short time, Hot Rod had gotten to know a lot of sides of him. Some called him self-destructive, but that wasn’t really true any more. He had a purpose, he had a goal, and he wasn’t running himself into the ground any more. At least not as badly as before, the mech decided. Pepper had been gracious enough to give him a rather extensive update of Tony Stark’s life and Hot Rod knew what had happened in the past.

The man now enjoying a moonwalk like a little kid was a far cry from the industrialist billionaire who snapped a weaker company’s back with a wave of his hand. Tony could be ruthless when it came to business, and he often was, but he was still such a child inside. Had his life gone differently, Hot Rod firmly believed that he could have been happy just developing new stuff and testing it. Without the pressure of his parents’ death and the company his father had built, Tony might be just another science geek.

As it was, he was a geek, but one with money to burn and a business attitude that had a white shark looking like a puppy dog.

Watching Tony test the Iron Man armor in space had Hot Rod smile fondly. He liked Tony, could hang out with him and not get bored, ever, and he had a protective streak when it came to this particular human.

“Roddy?”

He looked over to where Tony had been using his propulsion systems to check the suit’s weightless performance, part of him noting the strange inflection to his friend’s voice.

“Yes?”

“Did any of you guys ever step onto the moon?”

The mech thought for a moment, recalling files about earlier arrivals and found nothing. “Not to my knowledge.”

“Sure?”

“Reasonably. The crew of the Ark came here by ship and then descended in protoform. Arcee and I arrived in protoform shape and crashed. I know I was never here. I doubt Arcee lingered.”

“Huh. Footsteps are too big to be hers anyway.”

Alarms rang inside the Autobot. “Footsteps?”

He strode over to Tony as fast as he could, actually bounding more than walking. Reduced gravity was fun, but it also required a lot more computations.

Iron Man pointed at a large, clearly non-human print. It was roughly shaped like a foot and of mechanoid origin.

“Hot Rod to Jazz,” Hot Rod contacted his superior.

“Jazz here. What gives?”

“We’re roughly fifty miles from our landing spot and Tony has found traces of mechanoid presence on the moon.”

“Coordinates,” Jazz demanded sharply.

Hot Rod relayed them, the apprehension rising.

“Any trace of the originator?”

“None. The steps lead away from us. Should I follow?”

“No. Wait for Bumblebee. He’s already on his way.”

“Understood.”

“About Tony…”

“Tony is not going anywhere,” Stark logged himself into the conversation.

Hot Rod shot the smaller figure a disapproving look.

“And you can just stop with the looks, Roddy. I’m here, I’ll stay.”

“If this is a Decepticon…”

“Moot point. If there’s one of those guys here, or more, they know about the Ark. It’s not exactly hidden. They know you are here, they have seen me.”

“Tony…”

“And it might be an old print, right?”

Hot Rod shrugged, agreeing grudgingly that it could.

“So maybe we’re chasing a decades old ghost.”

“Or just days or hours old.”

“I’m not staying behind, Hot Rod. That’s final.”

“Tony, listen…”

“No.”

It was Tony’s ‘end of discussion’ voice.

Jazz switched to Cybertronian and sent a burst along the comm line, telling Hot Rod to be careful, keep more than an optic on Tony, and retreat should they run into trouble. Hot Rod acknowledged.

“You know I can have that translated,” Stark remarked. It would take a while, though.

“You could.”

Even though the armor had no facial expression, the glare was obvious. Hot Rod just knew Tony too well.

The arrival of Bumblebee postponed the bickering. The yellow mech studied the print, optics narrowing.

“Let’s keep our scanners on full,” he decided as he started to follow the trail. “No surprises.”

Hot Rod nodded. No surprises. Hopefully.

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“Our presence has been detected.”

The other mech gazed thoughtfully at the human and the Autobot. “They know nothing.”

It got him a rumble. “We should proceed.”

“Our orders are to wait until the signal is given.”

The first mech moved restlessly, then settled down, the small frame barely detectable.

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“What if it was Chromia?” Sam asked, looking reasonably awake after he had been woken out of his sleep.

Jazz shook his head. “Possible, but unlikely. The footsteps are too big for her size.”

Sam nodded, understanding. They were in the hangar bay of the Ark. All of them. Walker and his crew, Sam, Tony, and the three Autobots. The discovery of the footprint had them on alert and while the programs were still being uploaded into the Ark’s main computer and reconfigurations were still happening, no one was currently taking an active part in it.

Neither Bumblebee nor Hot Rod had found anything as they had followed the trail of footsteps. They had ended about ten miles later and from the trace left, the Decepticon had simply lifted off.

“If there was a Decepticon on the moon, he was here before Mission City, which means he could be one of those now dead. Or he arrived later, following Starscream and the others, which might have been before the Ark was maneuvered into this position,” Jazz pointed out. “Or it was just recently.”

“Which means we’re screwed,” Tony added wryly.

“Chromia mentioned following Soundwave,” Bumblebee spoke up.

Jazz’s expression grew more serious. “Yeah. And if it was Soundwave, we’re very much screwed. He never goes anywhere without his small army of symbiotes.”

At the quizzical look from the humans he elaborated.

“Soundwave took on symbiotes, not unlike Barricade and Frenzy, or Blackout and Scorponok. They are smaller, they have a purpose in maintaining and supporting the more powerful mech, but they’re independent units and a force to be reckoned with. Unlike most Cybertronians, who would take on one, maybe two, Soundwave has a whole army of them.”

“He’s also one of the few Decepticons Megatron trusted implicitly,” Bumblebee added. “His designation was communications officer, but he was so much more. There’s hardly a secret he didn’t know and he’s a feared opponent, mentally as well as physically.”

“Rumors are he can read minds.”

Sam shot Jazz a frown. “Like me?”

“No. You’re a technopath. Your mind is organic and you can access electronics. Soundwave can plug himself into another electronic mind and just… transfer thoughts.”

“Creepy,” Walker commented.

“How many are we talking?” Barbara wanted to know. “If he arrived with all his symbiotes.”

“And if it is him,” Tony added.

“Last count: fifteen mechs,” Jazz said softly.

Sam gaped. “Fifteen?”

“All attached to him?” Kyle wanted to know.

“Yes. Varying sizes and varying transformations enable them to join with Soundwave while they’re not needed. Like Scorponok was stored inside Blackout, Soundwaves has his symbiotes with him.”

“Well, hell,” Tony muttered.

“Yeah. Damned freaky,” Walker agreed.

“He’s the only one I know of who has that many dependents,” Hot Rod added. “It’s a network of spies and he uses them well.”

“But Will only detected one spark,” Sam argued. “He could feel even Scorponok’s, so it’s not a matter of size.”

“Even if he came here alone, he’s highly dangerous.”

“Or it’s not him and we’re chasing a shadow,” Stark argued.

“Someone was here,” Bumblebee pointed out. “A Decepticon. And Chromia chased an unknown mech. We have to take this seriously.”

Jazz and Hot Rod nodded their agreement.

“What if it is him and his spark shields the symbiotes?” Tony asked.

“No one with Will’s abilities ever tried to sense for sparks, Tony. What Will saw or felt or dreamed, it was unique,” Hot Rod told him. “He might have picked up the sparks he was familiar with, then caught the shadows of the two strongest, namely Soundwave and Chromia. The symbiotes are smaller, and they might have been protected.”

“So it could be him, but we’re not sure,” Kyle summed it up.

Jazz nodded grimly. “We have to get back. Secure the Ark, restart the main computer, get the defensive systems online.”

“We’re almost done,” Gabe Craig, the Ghost-2’s system engineer, told them. “Give me one more hour and we can unplug the Ghost-2 from your mainframe. After that it’s a simple reboot.”

Jazz nodded. “We’ll be done by then, too.”

“So our vacation’s cut short,” Tony remarked.

Hot Rod’s grim expression said it all.

“Oh well, time to finish off my own projects and wrap up the work. By the way, if Soundwave arrived on Earth, and was on the Moon, you think he might have noticed the Ark, right?” Tony asked casually.

“Yes, he probably did.”

“Then why didn’t he take it? Or destroy it?”

“The Ark isn’t a warship,” Jazz told him. “She’s old and she’s seen a lot.”

“Translation: she’s a piece of crap that works well as a stationary object but not much else?”

Bumblebee chuckled. “We could do more than that, but essentially she’s useless. Starscream left her behind, too.”

Tony nodded. “Just wondering. Tactically speaking, leaving your enemy an oldtimer is still leaving your enemy an oldtimer. Nothing says anyone was aboard since you guys, nothing was tampered with, but it makes me wonder.”

“Let’s finish this,” Walker decided. “And wonder on the way home.”

Tony walked thoughtfully back to the bridge, Hot Rod beside him.

“You think the Ark was rigged?” the mech asked softly.

“No. Not rigged. Maybe he needs her. Maybe she’s a possible base of operations for the Decepticons.”

“What for? Megatron is dead, the Allspark is gone… Earth is of no interest for the Decepticons,” Hot Rod argued.

“You stayed.”

“We have nowhere else to go, Tony. It’s our home now. Going back to a ruined world… would you want that?”

Stark shook his head. They continued in silence, each lost in his own thoughts.

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The fact that at least one of the Decepticons had been on the moon had everyone on their toes. Work proceeded quickly and several experimental programs were implemented but not tested. They wanted to get home as fast as they could. Hot Rod ran a lot of patrols throughout the Ark, but he never found a trace of Decepticon presence. There were no signs anyone had been aboard the old vessel and none of the computer systems had been altered. Bumblebee had gone through all logs from prior to departing the Ark for Earth until this day.

Nothing.

Still, the tension was there.

Twenty-four hours after the discovery of the print on the moon’s surface, Walker began pre-flight checks and Sam and Tony helped in setting the last systems for Go. They had no time to check everything with what the Arctic base received. From now on, things would run remotely.

Walker frowned as he looked at the read-out screen. “Gabe?” he called the system engineer.

“Yeah?”

“Check on Main One?”

There was a moment of silence, then, “That can’t be right.”

Walker felt his tension rise. “I’m getting a total system failure up here. Same for Main Two.”

“I’m on my way to the engine room. Hold on.”

There was another minute of silence, then a very colorful curse. “Kyle, we’ve been sabotaged.”

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In the Arctic base, the controller who was responsible for monitoring the Ghost-2’s status throughout the night frowned at his screen. The Ghost-2 usually gave off strong signals that told everyone where she was – currently docked inside the Ark. In the last hour there had been irregularities, but none unusual enough for an alarm. He had kept monitoring and had even briefly talked with the communications officer aboard the Ghost-2. Everything was running perfectly well up there.

Now the signal’s strength was waning.

And suddenly it was cut off.

Quickly typing in several commands, the controller asked for the system to check and recheck everything, but the signal stayed lost. Another very quick test run showed him that the system as such was fine. No collapse anywhere, no sudden black-outs.

The Ghost-2 stayed lost.

Chris Graiber picked up the phone and called the chief of the base.

Thirty minutes later Tom Banachek called a yellow alert.

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Two mechs in raw beast mode left the moon and headed back to Earth, their part of the mission complete.

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The engine was a mess, as was the comm console. Humans and Autobots alike were shocked.

“Nothing on the internal sensors,” Bumblebee reported. “Whoever did this, he’s good. And gone.”

“Decepticons,” Hot Rod murmured.

The humans looked alarmed, except maybe Sam and Tony. Those two appeared tense, but composed.

“Sweep the ship,” Jazz decided, voice hard. “I don’t care what else we came here to do, but we scan the Ark and the Ghost-2, all internal sensors on full. Commander, what’s the general state of the engines?”

Walker exchanged a brief look with Gabe, then shrugged. “Not beyond repair. The saboteur tore some chunks out, but it’s possible we can get her up and running soon.”

“Then get to it. We’ll be leaving the moment the Ghost-2 is ready for flight,” the Autobots’ second-in-command decided.

“I’ll help,” Sam volunteered.

Stark nodded his agreement.

Jazz inclined his head in thanks. “Hot Rod, Bumblebee, set up the scans. We do this room by room and level by level. No surprises.”

“Understood,” Hot Rod replied, flexing his fingers.

He glanced at Tony, who gave him a humorless smile. “Go get ‘em, Roddy.”

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Tony knew that using the Extremis to the extent he was at the moment would surely leave him with a headache. He was moving through the Ark’s systems with no regard to his own health, trying to find a working surveillance camera or internal sensor. He ran into disabled, dead or generally missing cameras and sensors.

Throwing a fine link to his Autobot guardian to keep in communication with the world outside he relayed the information.

::Any trace?:: Hot Rod asked, sounding tense.

::No. Still looking::

And he did, checking every chip, every piece of wire and alien relay system.

He would regret doing this. He would really regret it. Migraine would be too good a word for what was awaiting him when he finally logged out of the alien main computer.

But if there was one of Soundwave’s symbiotes aboard, they had to find him.

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Sam was a technopath, which meant he could access machines with his mind. It didn’t mean he could simply go out and scan for Decepticons. Right now he felt pretty much useless, especially since Bumblebee insisted he should stay on the bridge where he was safe. The crew of the Ghost-2 had been relocated as well since the ship itself was out of commission and until they could be sure that the saboteur was gone, no one was allowed to work without protection.

Hot Rod, Jazz and Bumblebee were looking through the Ark room by room by corridor by bay. Without the internal scanners it was hard work. They were sealing off vents and rooms the moment they had been cleared.

Sam suspected that whoever had managed to get aboard had already left again. Mission accomplished.

They were stuck.

But why keep them here? Why simply disable the Ghost-2 in a way that could be repaired, even if it took a while?

His mind was going over this again and again. It made no sense. The Ark was functional and even if the Ghost-2 wasn’t, they could repair her. Should that fail, they could fly the Ark closer to Earth. It might reveal more to those who didn’t know about the alien mechanoids than anyone had ever planned – one day their presence would be known – but it all came down to the fact: they weren’t stuck. Just delayed.

::What would anyone get from delaying our return?:: he asked Bumblebee, who was currently fine-combing the lowest level of the Ark.

::I don’t know::

::Attack the base?::

::Soundwave would be foolish to. Even with all symbiotes he’d go down. The base is well-defended::

Sam chewed on his lower lip, eyes on the tiny portion of space he could see through one of the blast protected windows high above. It made no sense. None at all.

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Banachek knew that after hours of checking and rechecking their equipment, as well as letting Ratchet run a simultaneous check, that they had lost contact with the Ghost-2 for good. Prime had tried to get in contact with his men from the Nevada base, but he had been met with similar failure. Something was blocking them, making it impossible to reach the ship.

“Could distance be a problem?” he asked, though he knew it was a rather insane idea.

“For the comm devices aboard the Ark, no. Neither should the Ghost-2 have any problems. As for personal communication distance, without relay stations we wouldn’t be able to reach one of the Autobots aboard. As it is, the satellites around Earth could amplify our attempts of communication, but Ironhide doesn’t believe that’s the problem. Something must have happened.”

Banachek nodded, aware of the gravity of the situation. They had no back-up shuttle. None of those with NASA or any other space-faring nation were equipped for this distance on such short notice. It would take days to prepare an orbiter.

“So we sit and wait?” he asked.

Prime hesitated, then folded his hands, leaning forward a little, his face filling the screen. “John Keller asked me to give him twelve hours to see if Stark Industries can get their prototype orbiter up and running.”

Banachek had heard about that, but he had dismissed the idea. Stark was trying for commercial space travel and the idea was a cover at best. Mostly a cover to explain possible planetfalls from future new-arrivals and maybe an accidental witness of the Ghost-2 launch or descent. The press was eating it up, plastering the business sections and science pages of the daily newspapers with Stark’s dreams, calling him a visionary. Tony played his role well.

“Since it has yet to sustain human pilots, Arcee would be standing in for the crew.”

“But we don’t know if it works.”

“No.”

Banachek sighed, feeling a headache coming. “What if it is the enemy?” he finally asked.

Prime was silent, the blue optics narrowing. Finally, “Then we might have sent the Ghost-2 into a trap.”

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Tony rubbed his eyes, feeling immensely tired. He hadn't slept much lately and the headache had become a constant companion. It was bad enough for him to use painkillers that the suit stored, painkillers that were probably illegal in most countries on this planet. But they helped. Without them, he’d be curled in a corner of the ship, a whimpering mess, suffering from the Migraine from Hell. This whole sabotage mess was getting more and more complicated. Nothing that had been tampered with was hard to replace, but it took time, and they needed to double-check the remaining systems. The Autobots were still fine-combing the Ark, but there was no intruder, so sign of anyone ever being here since the ship had been abandoned by Prime and the others. Whoever had snuck aboard and sabotaged the Ghost-2, they had been in and out fast.

The Ghost-2 crew worked in shifts. Tony had yet to stop what he was doing and take a break – at least for longer than it took to eat. The faster they got off the Ark and back to Earth, the better he would feel. Something was going on and with the communications black-out on top of it all, they had no way to inform Earth or to know what might be happening at home.

"Tony?" Kyle’s voice let him return back to reality and he blinked.

"What did you say?" he asked, suppressing a yawn.

“That you should take a break. You’re dead on your feet.”

"No, I'm not."

"You worked nearly all night on the circuit charts."

“And there’s still the main computer’s central control unit to update.”

"No, it isn’t," a serious voice interrupted him.

Tony groaned and looked up into a pair of serious blue optics. Hot Rod had his hands on his hips and he was glaring.

“Don’t give me that look, Roddy. Won’t work.”

Walker smiled. “Maybe not the look, but you know those guys are big enough to easily get us small humans anywhere…”

“He wouldn’t dare!”

“Try me,” was the wry reply. “Even Sam is more cooperative than you.”

“We can handle the central core update,” Walker reassured him. He held up a hand at Tony’s argumentative look. “We might not be equipped with something as nifty as your Extremis, but we’re almost all done and the rest is pretty much routine checks. Get some sleep, Stark.”

"All right, all right. You are a pain in the ass," he growled.

"Why thank you," Hot Rod answered pleasantly.

Tony shot him a look of pure acid, though it was a tired look, and trudged out of the hangar. Hot Rod smiled and followed him, keeping a very close optic on him.

"You are overreacting," Stark muttered. “I pulled all-nighters when you were just a heap of scrap on some freighter bound for the States.”

Hot Rod watched him nearly walk into a storage container and sighed. He shook his head and simply picked up his charge.

"Hey!" the human in question protested.

"Shut up."

Tony gave him a startled look.

"Tony, you've been working too much lately. You need rest."

"Oh, please!"

"Stark… I can almost feel your headache."

Tony sighed and settled back in the gentle hold. Maybe, just maybe, he had really worked too much lately. Everyone else had gotten rest, but between arriving on the Ark, working on completing their mission, his moon walk and discovering the sabotage that left them crippled in space, he hadn’t really caught much sleep.

"What day is today?"

The question startled him. "Huh?"

"You heard me," Hot Rod said. "What day is today?"

“That’s childish and you know it, Roddy. I can access a calendar with the Extremis,” Tony huffed.

“Unless you overused it again and every access has migraines following.”

Tony glared more, caught. “You’re not my nanny! Or my nurse! I’d know because I only hire the leggy, curvy versions for personal entertainment.”

“It’s good that I hired myself then,” the mech replied easily. “And you need a caretaker.”

“Do not!”

“Do too.”

Tony crossed his arms in front of his armored chest, huffing. “First Pepper, then Jarvis, now you.”

“You hired Pepper and you programmed Jarvis yourself.”

“Yeah. Now I can’t fire her because she’s the best personal assistant I ever had. And Jarvis…” Tony’s features softened. “He kinda… developed.”

Hot Rod watched his charge, noted the smile and the pride. Jarvis was Tony’s pride and joy, his ‘baby’.

“As for you,” Stark said, suddenly looking at him again. “I didn’t hire you. I didn’t create you. You snuck into my life and refuse to leave. Now why is that?”

“Because you need all the guardians you can get,” Hot Rod replied evenly. “I’m your guardian and that’s not renegotiable.”

“I’ll have to have a talk with Prime about that.”

Hot Rod chuckled. “Good luck.” They had arrived in the hangar and Hot Rod set Tony down next to the Ghost-2. “Go and get some sleep.”

Tony mock saluted. “Yessir!”

Hot Rod watched him with fond amusement and wondered if this was what the others had always felt around him when he had been at his most obnoxious. Kup had always complained about him being such a firecracker and Hot Rod had loved to annoy the older mech. Hot Rod had settled, had been forced to grow up because of the war, and part of him recognized something of himself in Tony Stark. It was why he liked him so much, why he stuck around, why he enjoyed the verbal sparring and banter.

Lost in his thoughts, the mech walked back to the others.

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Back on Earth, at Nellis Airforce base, matters proceeded as usual for Captain Michael Bowman. He was checking in with various departments before calling the Autobot base. With Trent still not back among them, logistics had taken a little blow. DeMarco was simply good and no matter how many assistants he employed, there was no replacing his knack for getting what they needed without much bureaucratic fuss. The tension over the loss of communication with the Ghost-2 was showing in the way everyone behaved and Mike knew that if something bad had happened, things would get ugly.

Leaving his office, Bowman took a short cut between two buildings to get to the parking lot where his jeep was waiting. Walking briskly through the empty alley that looked no different from any city alley he knew, he mentally went through his list of Things to Do for today. He knew he could get a condensed schedule if he asked WiFi, but the little mech was recharging in his pocket. He didn’t want to disturb his friend.

Something moved in the shadows.

Bowman’s attention was suddenly on the shadowed area, his training kicking in. He might no longer be a pilot, was more like a bureaucrat nowadays, but he had the instincts and the skills, and he took care of keeping fit.

Red optics glowed, a vague shape forming, and he tensed.

Holy shit…

He tapped a hand against his pocket and felt WiFi wake. The little mech warbled something, making it sound like a question as he peeked out of the pocket.

Then his optics fell on the clearly mechanoid creature now stalking toward them.

He shrilled.

“Call help,” Bowman hissed, then turned on his heels and ran.

It might be a stupid thing to do, but right now he didn’t want this thing out in the open or in the more populated areas. He took an open door and ran into one of the buildings, a warehouse, and wove his way through the piles of stored goods.

The creature followed. Almost at a leisurely pace it chased him around, cut off his path, then prowled closer until Bowman ran again and it gave chase once more.

It was playing.

Something crashed down on his back with the force of an eighteen-wheeler and he was knocked to the ground, winded. Bowman thought he heard something break, but the need for air overruled any other pain he might be feeling.

There was gun fire. Voices yelled orders. Something exploded not far from him, the heat washing over him. Bowman stayed low, making himself as small a target as possible, still gasping. Something grabbed him, too big to be humans hands, and he twisted away, hissing as pain lanced through his arm. There was angry shrilling, then the sound of WiFi’s tiny gun. Whatever was attacking them, Bowman doubted the little mech had a chance to even scratch it.

Something loomed over him, vicious looking, red optics glowing, and Bowman stared at the serrated teeth in a huge maw. Claws descended toward him and panic gave him another boost of adrenaline. The claws flung him aside and he hit his head somewhere, lights exploding in front of his eyes.

WiFi screeched in fury and through a curtain of blood running freely from a head wound he saw the Nokia jump toward the much larger attacker – which was about the size of a human horse – and his breath froze. WiFi seemed to know no fear as he clung to one optic, jabbing viciously at it.

And it gave.

To Bowman’s amazement the transparent cover over the left red optic broke and WiFi jammed one claw into the socket, releasing another round of gun fire.

The creature screamed and tried to shake off the tiny bug-like mechanoid.

“Captain!”

Bowman was grabbed and pulled away, his legs refusing to work, his shoulder and arm screaming fire. He didn’t think he had a concussion, but he was bleeding profusely, as head wounds tended to do.

“Sir, are you all right?”

“Yeah,” he replied shakily, though it wasn’t the truth. Anyone could see that.

He watched as men in protective gear, carrying what looked like oversized fire extinguishers, swarmed the warehouse. They stayed as far away from the raging thing as possible, letting those with guns wear it down first. By now the armor was riddled with cracks.

And then a volley of sabot rounds hit the creature.

It screeched in pain and Bowman yelled at WiFi to let go. The tiny mech did, flying through the air as the mechanoid shook its head, and he bounced over the floor. The soldiers with the deep-freeze advanced and liberally sprayed the intruder until it was no longer able to move a single digit.

By now the warehouse was swarming with military and Bowman wouldn’t be too surprised to hear that the Autobots were on their way. Someone pushed him back to lay on the ground, but Bowman fought him.

“I’m fine,” he repeated. “What is that thing?”

“I don’t know, sir, but we need to get you checked out. I think you dislocated your shoulder.”

Bowman frowned. Well, it did hurt, but considering he was still in the Golden Hour, he knew it was small compared to the pain that could hit him soon. Hissing sounds emanated from the frozen mechanoid and the red optics glowed with anger and fury, but it couldn’t move. WiFi scurried up his pant leg and chirped softly. He looked banged up and one of his wing-like back structures was bent completely out of shape. One of the pincers looked half-scrapped, too.

Bowman sighed a little in relief. At least WiFi was okay. He had been scared shitless to see his tiny friend attack this large robot.

“Optimus Prime is coming in, sir,” one of the soldiers announced.

Bowman nodded and forced himself to his feet. WiFi warbled and clung to his jacket. He pushed him up to his shoulder.

“Unable to transform?” he asked quietly.

It got him a twip-twip of confirmation.

“Ratchet can look at you. Sam’s not here,” Bowman added.

WiFi didn’t look happy. Ratchet scared him.

Walking more or less steadily over to the frozen attacker, Bowman finally had the time to look at the thing. It was even larger than a normal horse, about two meters of shoulder height alone, and it was a quadruped. The front legs were heavily clawed, the back legs looked powerful and strong. It had no tail, but the body of a predator. The head was short, the maw filled with long, vicious teeth, and the optics were still glaring at them.

The soldiers who had taken care of the intruder were those hand-picked by Lennox and himself. They were the few men and women at Nellis who knew the whole truth about the alien mechanoids among them.

WiFi chattered softly in his ear, sounding disturbed, almost frightened. For such a little guy he had been immensely courageous. If he was human, Bowman would say the adrenaline was wearing off and he was suddenly aware what he had done. The captain gave his companion a tired smile.

“Sir?” the soldier to his right pressed once more.

“Who’s in charge?” Bowman asked.

“Lieutenant Schmidt.”

Bowman searched the cluster of soldiers and found Schmidt, a dark-haired woman with a no-nonsense attitude, who was currently barking orders at several of her team to secure the intruder. She suddenly turned and nodded at him, as if she had felt his gaze.

“Captain,” she greeted the injured man, looking him up and down. “You should see a medic. We’ll take care of this one. Any idea what it might be?”

“No. I heard Optimus Prime is already on his way. Secure the intruder and keep him in a safe room.”

“That goes without saying.” She frowned at the ice-covered creature. “Decepticon, I suspect.”

“Most likely.”

“We’ll inform you of developments, Captain Bowman,” she told him, firmly nodding at the soldier still hovering to Bowman’s left to take the man to see a medic.

WiFi chirruped and awkwardly started his descent to Bowman’s jacket pocket. The captain took the Nokia and helped him hide.

“Let’s go,” he told his ‘bodyguard’.

His shoulder was by now killing him.

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Ravage stopped to scan for close-by enemy presence, but he found nothing. He was alone. Optimus Prime had left the base, as predicted, to head for Nellis. Now there were only two more guardians left, as well as several human soldiers. He wasn’t worried about the humans. Their senses were limited, their weapons, though effective, no threat for his speed – unless he was pinned down or there were too many. Ravage had never made the mistake to think of the inhabitants of this world as inferior. They were dangerous in their own way.

A transmission came in from Soundwave and he answered it, relaying his position. Soundwave acknowledged and then vanished into the vast Net again, checking on his other spies.

Time was of the essence now. The Ghost-2 was delayed as planned, which meant three less Autobots to worry about. Howlback had given his freedom to ensure that at least one Autobot would go to Nellis airbase to check out what had happened there. Now it was up to him, Beastbox and Squawktalk to accomplish their mission, the most important of all.

Ravage stopped and scanned a closed air vent, which led from somewhere inside the Autobot base to the surface. This was his way in.

“Ravage in position,” he told the other two symbiotes.

Squawktalk acknowledged.

It was time to draw the last of the enemy out of the base to get to their goal.

Seconds ticked by.

Then a loud explosion shook the ground and a building at the far end of the abandoned airfield blew up.

Ravage watched patiently as the alarm went off inside the main hangar, then, as not otherwise expected, the human soldiers poured out and headed for the explosion site.

“Distract them,” he ordered the other symbiotes as he closed in on his target.

This would have to happen fast. The Autobots wouldn’t be distracted for long and neither of the two Decepticon symbiotes were a match for the enemy. Ravage had no illusions about his own fate should Ironhide or Ratchet catch him.

“Enemy engaged,” Beastbox sent and Ravage confirmed.

Using his previously acquired knowledge of the Autobot base he wound his way through stacks of containers, evading the few humans still inside. They had moved to safer ground anyway, and though they were armed, they weren’t the problem.

And then he saw the target. Fascinated by the runes and glyphs clearly visible on the soft skin, the Decepticon spy watched the human. The runes moved lazily, like an intricate pattern no one could explain. Ravage was stunned by the beauty of the cosmic runes, by the power they expressed. He could read some of the glyphs, written in Cybertronian, but the rest was as mystical as the Allspark had always been.

Squawktalk told him to hurry it up as Beastbox had taken damage and the airborne symbiote wasn’t far behind in losing massively against the firepower of the Autobots.

Ravage growled to them, then quickly checked the area – he was alone -- and jumped the target.

The human was surprised, but instead of screaming and going down, he fought back. Ravage had the human male pinned underneath him, but the skin suddenly darkened and then Ravage was caught in a blast of energy. It sizzled over his armor and he hissed, surprised. He jumped back, shaking his head. His systems complained loudly about the overload. Intel had told them that the human, while a hybrid and in possession of Allspark traits, would be easy to take down. He was human after all.

Apparently that had been wrong.

Lashing out with his tail, stingers aiming to cripple but not to kill, he managed to knock the man down, but he wouldn’t give up. The no longer human skin was by now overrun with Allspark glyphs. His blow hadn’t even broken the usually very soft skin!

He attacked again, but the human was faster now, moving quickly and efficiently, energy collecting between his fingers, and then it was unleashed toward the symbiote. Ravage scrambled back by instinct and yowled in surprise as the human took on the appearance of a protoform mech, eyes now ice blue optics. Not only had he changed his appearance, but also his size!

This hadn’t been in the data! Nothing had!

“Wrong move,” the creature said, ice blue optics glowing brightly.

He frantically called his fellow symbiotes, but Beastbox and Squawktalk didn’t reply. He didn’t get as much as a blip.

Firing at the metamorphed human, Ravage was briefly satisfied that his weapons did some damage, but just briefly.

The gun pointing at him had him disengage and run.

“Retreat!” he told the others. “Retreat!”

No reply.

Nothing.

He took the way he had come, trying to lose the other between the crate, but the human knew the base – and he wasn’t scared of him at all! He was following him.

Something exploded to his right, throwing him aside, and he doubled his efforts. He lost several volleys from his hip-mounted canons and was pleased to see the hybrid was faltering, but he had no time to re-engage. He had to leave. Now! And he had to change tactics. Survival was his priority now, not the capture of the human.

More humans were around him, their surprise short and quickly transforming into defense and battle-readiness. Ravage howled in pain as a sabot round burned over his left hind leg, upsetting his balance. He slammed his tail into a rack of crates, making them topple, then jumped into the ventilation shaft that had led him here.

A few moments later he emerged into the open and accelerated to maximum speed, his body protesting as circuits were already over-taxed and muscle cables strained and threatening to rupture.

Ravage didn’t care.

He had to survive.

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In the base, Will changed back from protoform to human and leaned heavily against an overturned crate. He felt the pain from the blows Ravage had dealt and his body was still adjusting to the sudden unleashing energy to fight off the Decepticon symbiote.

He had acted on instinct, and instinct had led to the changes. His hands tingled a little from the energy they had held, and he stared at his fingers. Runes were inscribed along the back of each finger, a burned orange and golden color on tanned human skin. They weren’t moving. They were fixed.

“Sir? Are you all right?”

Lennox waved off the helping hand from one of the soldiers. “Go help the others. I’m fine.”

The man, Sergeant Haynes if he remembered correctly and he usually did, shook his head. “You were that thing’s target, Major. We’re not leaving you. Captain Epps has matters under control. His orders are to stick with you, sir.”

Lennox sighed. Part of him registered that he had been addressed with his old military rank, but he didn’t care at the moment. Another part was simply too tired and he wanted to just get some sleep.

Someone handed him clothes and he slipped them on. He then followed his bodyguards, thoughts falling over each other as he tried to make sense of what had just happened.

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Nellis Airforce base was in complete lock-down. The gates had been closed for all traffic, the runways were under tight control. Only who had a really good reason to launch was given clearance, and so far no one had had that. News as to what had happened was restricted to a Need To Know basis, and a lot of people didn’t need to know. Rumors flourished, but those concerned couldn’t care less. Base commander Major General Henry Dunn was already on the phone with the Pentagon and the Department of Defense. Measures to insure the safety of the base, its personnel, and the secrecy of the Autobots had been taken.

And the intruder had been secured in a special contraption that had previously incapacitated much larger mechs, like Bumblebee or even Megatron.

Optimus Prime had arrived no more than thirty minutes after the alarm had come in and he was currently standing, slightly crouched, in the warehouse that now served as a high security facility. His blue optics were locked on the frozen form of Howlback and he didn’t look overly pleased to see the Decepticon symbiote.

“How is Captain Bowman?” he asked Dunn.

The base commander looked grim. “Dislocated shoulder, scratches, slight concussion. Generally fine, so to speak, with a bit of shock to go with it. It was a close call. Medical gave him something for the pain and he was knocked out. WiFi is with him, refusing to leave.”

Prime nodded. “This confirms my darkest fears: there are more Decepticons on Earth.”

“How many aside from this one?” Dunn wanted to know.

“Howlback is a symbiote. He doesn’t come without his master, Soundwave.” Prime’s expression grew even darker. “Soundwave was Megatron’s communications’ officer and possibly more powerful than Starscream, who served as Megatron’s second-in-command. He is host to a lot of symbiotes, an army of spies.”

“More than this one then,” Dunn concluded.

“Yes, General. The question is, why attack Captain Bowman? Why infiltrate Nellis only for that?”

“And how many are still out there,” the commander finished.

Prime nodded. Suddenly he stiffened and his optics flared.

“Optimus?”

“The base has been breached,” the Autobot leader hissed and transformed.

Humans jumped out of his way as the massive truck moved forward, leaving the warehouse. A green and blue motorbike joined the truck as they headed to the gate, which was already being opened for them.

“What happened?” Arcee wanted to know. She had been with Trent for the past few days and had been surprised by the events like all the others.

“Howlback attacked Captain Bowman, the base has been breached while Ironhide and Ratchet had been drawn out by a staged attack from Beastbox and Squawktalk, and the Arctic base has trouble raising the Ghost-2.”

“Soundwave,” Arcee whispered.

“Yes.”

“So Chromia was right. Out of her mind, but right.”

Prime’s reply was a grim rumble.

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The Ghost-2’s main engine wasn’t beyond repair. The saboteur had actually only done enough to keep them stuck behind the Moon and unable to talk to home. Tony had slept for four hours before going back to work, much to Hot Rod’s annoyance. Coffee that tasted worse than the sludge the military proclaimed was liquid caffeine and airline food kept him going. He had spent hours hip-deep in engine parts, cannibalizing what wasn’t needed and even borrowing from the Ark. Since the Ark’s engine was too big to use as a primary donor for parts, Tony had only taken what easily fitted or could be refitted.

No trace of the intruder had been found. There had been faint signs and Jazz had declared that it had been a Decepticon, but there had been not a single sighting.

Walker went through the pre-flight checks again, feeling tired and exhausted. No one had slept well and while they had tried to get some rest in shifts, they now mostly lived off coffee and power bars. The Autobots hadn’t rested either. The Ark was now locked down and Tony had used the Extremis to help out, which had left him with a killer headache and Hot Rod hovering more than usual.

“We’re ready,” Walker declared. It was 3 a.m. local time at the Arctic station, but they hadn’t been able to get in contact with anyone there.

The comm unit of the Ghost-2 had been disabled and Gabe was still working on it. The engine had priority. The comm of the Ark wasn’t an option since it was still locked down and releasing the lock would take time. And they had no idea if a) the Arctic station could receive them and b) the Decepticons might not interfere with the signal.

So the goal was to get back as quickly as possible.

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An hour after repairs had been finished, the Ghost-2 slid out of the Ark’s belly, turning gracefully back toward home. Tony was semi-awake, still nurturing a headache. Even in this state he was a lot better at thinking and coming up with ideas than other people awake. He had tried to withdraw a little out of the systems, but he couldn’t. Not for the lack of ability, but for want and need. He wanted to be logged into the systems, kept informed, and he needed the extended senses. He was already searching for the satellites around Earth, using them as his eye in the sky, so to speak. The moment he found a Stark Industries communication satellite he would get a message through to the Arctic base.

Sam was dozing, but he was restless. They were all restless. They needed to get the information they had back home and there was still the danger of a Decepticon attack.

But why sabotage them? Why not disable the Ghost-2 permanently and leave them stranded? Why not just blow them up?

::Jazz thinks it’s all part of some kind of plan. I agree:: Bumblebee told him.

::Yeah. But what kind of plan? To achieve what?::

They didn’t know. And Sam could think of nothing coming out of stranding three Autobots and some humans in space.

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Tony ignored Hot Rod’s advice to take it easy and kept poking at the satellites in reach. He finally, finally!, found one of his communication satellites and immediately went to work. He knew the electronics inside out. He had designed the core tech.

Sliding quickly along the familiar connections, Tony reached the area he had been looking for. He placed a call, dialing Pepper’s cell phone number.

::Hey, Pep:: he greeted his assistant with a smile audible in his voice.

“Tony?!” she exclaimed. “Where are you?”

::Still in space. It’s incredible, Pepper. You should come next time::

“I doubt it.”

::Listen, pleasantries aside, I need you to call Lennox or Epps or anyone on the base. Patch me to them through your BlackBerry::

There was a moment of silence and Tony could imagine Pepper’s expression shifting through all kinds of questions, which she simply put aside to answer, “Yes, Mr. Stark.”

It took longer than he had expected and when he got Captain Epps on the phone, he knew why.

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He felt detached. Almost as if his mind and his body had become separate entities operating independently of each other. He seemed to be suspended in a twilight world in which time and space ceased to have any real meaning, in which he could safely ignore the realities of existence. A vague sensation of unease touched him, not enough to create any sense of distress. That he was unable to move was something of a mystery. He had no memory of anything that had gone on before the here and now; leaving him with no past on which to anchor. He was faintly troubled by the notion that there was something important that he should remember, knowing that somewhere in a far and inaccessible recess of his mind lay the answer but he had neither the will nor the strength to pursue the thought and once again he surrendered to become a being without substance.

A mind floating free.

He blinked.

No, he couldn't just slide back. He needed to… to… what?

There was a presence and it nudged him gently, trying to push him into awareness.

So Mike Bowman became vaguely aware. Fighting unconsciousness, he tried to open his eyes. He could hear someone moving about, the distinctive sound of medical equipment, and there was the smell of anti-bacterial gel. Nausea passed over him in a wave.

Right. The attack. The emergency response team had bustled him off to the medical unit and he had been injected some kind of pain medication that had completely knocked him out.

"Twip?"

It was a whisper, but he recognized it in a way. His mind dragged itself out of the swamp it was trapped in, but the effort was too much already.

He managed to crack his eyes open and found himself almost nose-to-nose with WiFi. The little mech looked worried, head tilting left, then right, and finally one pincer poked him ever-so-gently.

It almost purred.

“Hey,” he said, though it wasn’t more than a breathy whisper.

WiFi warbled happily.

Bowman smiled, feeling the painkillers take a hold once more. No longer willing to fight, he succumbed to sleep.

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Will sat through the medical exam with barely an eye roll. He felt too sore to do much else than suffer the poking and prodding, and he almost fled when he was released. The base was still under lock-down and nothing got in or out. The military presence had never been more pronounced and Lennox passed a heavily armored and armed soldier every other corner. Epps was in the main hangar, supervising and talking to someone on the comm.

The Ghost-2 was still on her way back to Earth and everyone at the Arctic station was on the same high alert as they were here. Barricade was already there and if not for the incident at Nellis, so would Ratchet. But right now Ratchet, Prime and Ironhide would remain here. Arcee and Ratchet would provide security for the Air Force base while Ironhide and Optimus handled matters here.

Feeling tired and still aching from the blows Ravage had gotten in, Lennox found his way into his quarters.

He wasn’t a Major any more. He wasn’t a commanding officer. He was simply part of the base and currently too tired to think straight. And too shaken.

Ironhide was busy taking care of base matters, though he had done the expected hovering while Will had been checked over. Lennox had told him in no uncertain terms that there were currently a lot more important matters, whatever Ironhide thought, and to go handle them. Lennox wanted to be there, but his body was shutting down and he had enough experience with his hybrid form to know he was falling into recharge.

So he let his body’s demands take over. For now.

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When he received the message, via an encoded channel, Optimus Prime was briefly stunned, then he simply acknowledged.

“Optimus?” Ironhide asked.

“Stay here,” Prime answered. “I need you to handle this end of our situation.”

“Where are you going?”

Prime’s face reflected a grim expression. “To greet a new arrival.”

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Soundwave knew when retreat was the better option and unlike many Decepticons, he favored retreat to obliteration. Live to fight another day was a good motto for anyone. He would count his losses and reconsider his plans. Apparently the Autobots hid a lot more than he had given them credit for, and he had lost too much because he hadn’t considered that the intel might be missing important chunks.

Ravage was still on the run, Howlback and Squawktalk were prisoners. Beastbox had been off-lined by the Autobots, Lazerbeak had returned the night before, Buzzsaw and Ratbat would have to remain in hiding until they could safely rejoin him. He hadn’t heard of Rumble, mainly because the spy was lying low, but Soundwave didn’t think he had been off-lined. A nervous Glit was busying himself with the remains of Megatron. Ever since the updates on losses, permanent or otherwise, had come in, the symbiote had been beside himself.

Soundwave was torn out of his musings when his sensitive audios picked up the tell-tale whine of an incoming missile strike. He simply transformed into his aerial mode and shot out of the building.

The explosion shook the ground and the flames of the building going up in a massive plume of fiery orange and deadly red licked at his armor. Soundwave threw open his sensors, scanning for the attacker. An energy bolt hit him and he easily deflected it, getting his sights on the target.

Autobot.

One single Autobot, but one with stealth capabilities, one who had set up a large enough explosive charge to destroy his hide-out.

As if on cue, another explosion rocked the already severely damaged building, and this one had all the traces of multiple energon charges. Nothing inside the ruins could survive the fire now raging over them.

Soundwave transformed, firing at the lone Autobot.

Foolish mech, he thought. It had been a suicide mission.

Soundwave’s red visorband optics briefly fixed on the burning building where Glit had probably perished. He had no intention to get caught in a personal fight, but he needed to get away as fast as possible. He and the symbiotes had to regroup, go into hiding, reformulate his plan. With the loss of Megatron’s shell, and with it Glit, he might have to change everything.

The building gave a shuddering boom again and the walls collapsed inward. There was no life sign of his symbiote.

Another shot hit him, this one coming from behind, and he whirled around, surprised by a second presence. A new volley had him dodge. He caught sight of a large Autobot, weapon blasting away at him, and identified the Autobot leader with mild shock.

Optimus Prime should be at Nellis, or back at his own base, but not here!

The Autobot leader was a force to be reckoned with. No sane mech simply engaged him in a fight, unless he might have the advantage of size or surprise on his side. Many Decepticons respected their enemy; Soundwave was one of them. Before the war, when there had been no sides and no factions, he had often met the other mech through Megatron. He was a capable warrior and leader, but Soundwave’s loyalty had always been and would always be with Megatron.

Counting his losses, Soundwave found retreat the only logical option he had left. No use in damaging himself in a useless confrontation.

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Finding Soundwave on Earth had been coincidence. Heavily damaged, he had followed the rather obvious trail of the Decepticon communications specialist across the galaxies to this small planet. He had been surprised by the mass of life on this world, even more by the presence of his own kind.

Planetfall had brought him closer to his target. He had ignored all signs of other Autobots on Earth, had gone deep undercover to find where the murderous Decepticon was hiding, and he had waited to catch Soundwave unawares.

It had taken weeks and he had been sorely tempted to make his presence known to his comrades. Optimus Prime himself was on Earth! The Autobot leader had survived and with him several highly placed Autobots, but he had known that to find peace, he had to do this on his own – succeed or die trying.

He hadn’t counted on Soundwave’s deviousness, though he should have. There had been so many events taking place almost simultaneously, stretching the Autobots thin, endangering their allies, that he had finally acted.

He was too loyal to his kind to ignore it all any longer.

He had sent his coordinates to Prime and informed him of his own presence and the location of the enemy.

Sideswipe watched Soundwave flee, armor damaged enough to make it difficult, then turned to his leader. Blue optics met blue optics.

“Prime,” he greeted the much larger mech.

Optimus acknowledged him with a nod. “Sideswipe. It’s good to see you.”

Sideswipe ignored the emotions boiling up inside him. His optics glanced over the burning building and he picked up the radio signals of firefighters and law enforcement. They had to leave soon.

Optimus seemed to agree because he transformed and led him away, heading into the general direction of the base.

“You came alone?” his leader finally asked.

Sideswipe suppressed more darkness. “Yes.”

“What happened to the others?”

“We were separated. Soundwave led a strike team to obliterate our resistance and… succeeded.”

Prime was silent for a second. “You were the only survivor?”

Sideswipe felt the darkness tease him. “I never found anyone else after that.”

The large truck pulled to a stop off the dirt road and Prime transformed, his expression stricken and empathetic. Sideswipe didn’t need sympathy or pity. He defiantly looked at his leader.

Still, the darkness was almost overwhelming.

“I’m glad you came,” the older mech finally said.

“I had no choice. Soundwave was my target. I want him off-lined permanently.”

“I understand your need for revenge, Sideswipe…”

He cut him off with an angry gesture. “I know that we all lost people we loved or respected. I know none of us came away unscathed. I know I’m selfish…”

“You’re not,” was the quiet interruption. “Survival is easier when there’s something you can hang on to. I know chances for lost friends to reappear alive are slim, but it’s a hope I hang on to.”

Sideswipe looked away, hands clenching into fists.

“How long have you been on this planet, Sideswipe?” Prime suddenly asked.

“Seven months.”

“You need to know a few things before we continue to the base. Our alliances are various and… may seem strange.”

He cocked his head a little. Prime smiled tightly, then filled him in on what had happened on this world ever since the arrival of the Ark’s team.

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Earth filled the forward view screen and everyone was watching their home planet come closer. Walker’s voice was tense as he gave commands and that tension was spreading to everyone.

There was a slight increase in engine noise as the Ghost-2 hit the outer layer of the atmosphere. Tony’s mind reached out for the mainframe with every fiber of his being, his body feeling the rhythmic vibrations of the engines as they struggled to slow their descent.

::Getting anything from home?:: he asked Hot Rod.

::Jazz is talking to Optimus. It seems the situation at the base and at Nellis is under control. And we have a new arrival::

::Oh?::

::Sideswipe::

::When did he get here?::

::Just a short while ago. He’s hunting Soundwave::

A jolt raced through the ship, tearing Tony out of his Extremis-assisted talk..

"What the....?!" Barbara exclaimed.

Lights flared up on the control panels and there was a scream from the engines.

"We’re losing control! Main engines going off-line!" Gabe reported.

There was a tell-tale whine and suddenly the ship jolted once more, as if running over an obstacle.

"Power failure in Main One!" Barbara yelled over the suddenly blaring alarm.

Hamilton quickly shut off the noise. The ship started to buck and Barbara fought for control over the Ghost-2, but she was losing.

"Hold on!" she called.

Tony knew every system that was going down. Extremis kept him very well informed. He couldn’t see Sam’s face, but from the death grip the younger man had on the seat, he was probably pale as a sheet and praying. Stark caught flickers of emotions from Hot Rod, who was preparing for the worst and to do whatever he could should they crash and the humans get hurt.

::You can get hurt as well, you idiot!:: he hissed.

::We’re harder to kill than humans:: Hot Rod told him, voice laced with a lot more concern than Tony was willing to hear. ::Jazz, Bumblebee and I can survive this. I’m more worried about you.::

Tony refused to answer, instead concentrating on trying to help with the failing ship.

The planet rushed up to meet them.

"Guidance system down! Losing altitude!" Walker announced.

"I'm losing her!" Barbara added.

Tony madly dashed through the barely existent back-up systems, coaxing them into functionality, even for only a brief moment. Every second helped. Something blew and he flinched back as pain raced along the connection between the Extremis and the now dead system.

::Tony, stop it!:: Hot Rod ordered.

::I do nothing, we drop like a stone:: he snarled angrily.

Outside, the Ghost-2 was searing hot from re-entry, the heat shields the only protection they had and the only part of the ship that wasn’t threatening failure.

"Brace for impact," Walker called.

Earth was by now filling their view screen and the Ghost-2 plunged into the cloud cover. It was like jumping into a pool of smoke. Small particles collided with the outer hull and the vibrations running through the ship were increasing. They shot out of the cloud cover and Tony saw the planet's surface loom up in front of them. The shriek of the engines was all around them.

::Where are we?:: he shot the question at Hot Rod.

::Greenland. Your course is taking us toward Lincoln Sea::

There was nothing but white and blue and Tony only thought ‘Oh shit!’ before they hit the ground.

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There was nothing but white and blue and Tony only thought ‘Oh shit!’ before they hit the ground. The front landing gear crashed into the sharp spikes of ice and shattered them like glass. If not for the fact that they were all strapped into their seats, they would have been thrown clear across the cockpit. The Ghost-2 creaked and groaned under the stress, screaming and whining, as she plowed through the landscape, leaving a deep, steaming hot groove in the thick ice cover of northern Greenland.

"We are slowing down!" Tanner announced.

The Ghost-2 shuddered more and Tony feared that the landing gear might tear off, but they were truly slowing down. More alarms went off, lights flashing at an alarming rate. And then they came to rest with a final crunching noise. Everyone remained as they were, frozen to the spot, not daring to move.

"Everyone okay?" Walker asked into the silence.

::Roddy?!::

::We’re fine. Rattled, systems shaken, but fine::

From the way Sam’s shoulders sagged a little, he had just reassured himself that Bumblebee was fine, too.

"I... I think so," Hamilton muttered, staring at the landscape outside the viewscreen, at least what could be seen of it. "Man..."

Craig groaned and only raised his hand, waving weakly, lying half slumped over his station. "I feel dead," he moaned.

"System check,” Walker ordered. “Are we in contact with the base?”

Hamilton shook his head. “Negative. Communications is dead.”

“Same for the engines,” Craig added. “Both are blown.”

“Bumblebee says they already called the base,” Sam said, sounding shaken. “Rescue teams have been deployed. It might take a while. Bad weather front coming in.”

Hamilton sighed. “Figures.”

“Okay, people, secure the ship, check for leaks and gaps, then we hunker down and wait for rescue,” Walker decided, already getting up.

Tony undid his own harness, finding he was a little shaky on his legs. Hot Rod and the others had already left the Ghost-2 through the miraculously still functional loading bay door.

“Commander? Tony and I will check outside,” Sam could be heard. “Our suits are best prepared for this weather.”

“Okay. Be careful.”

“Always.”

And knowing the mechs outside, they wouldn’t let their human charges out of their sights.

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The world outside the Ghost-2 might just be another planet, it looked so incredibly hostile and alien to Sam. The armor was keeping him comfortably warm and despite the fact that he should be freezing, he wasn’t. It was actually a nice day. No storm, no snow, just overcast sky and the night coming in.

The ship had left a very deep, ugly groove in the eternal ice. The heat from the outer skin of the Ghost-2 had melted what had come into its path and the water had frozen over, creating weird ice sculptures.

Not far away he could see the dark waters of the Lincoln Sea.

“Integrity of the ship’s still intact,” Sam heard Jazz announce. “Some stress cracks, but nothing serious.”

“Aside from the fact that she won’t fly ever again,” Hot Rod added.

Tony chuckled. “I don’t care about her flying anywhere, Roddy. Not freezing to death in this lonely part of the world is more important.”

“Won’t happen,” Jazz told him. “She’s stable and the hull will keep you warm.”

Sam walked a little further away from the ship, taking in the surreal landscape of eternal ice. He had never been to anything this remote, this lonely, this icy. He had never even seen pictures of Greenland. His parents had talked about a polar cruise once, but it was ridiculously expensive for such a short trip.

“You have an amazing planet,” Bumblebee said as he joined him.

“Yeah. Right now I’d prefer watching this as a documentary, Bee.”

Bumblebee chuckled.

The mechs stood out in the white and gray landscape. Jazz and Hot Rod were blending in with their mainly silver coloring, but Bumblebee was yellow and black. You couldn’t really lose him. Nor could you overlook Tony or Sam.

Jazz was visibly fascinated by the landscape and taking in what he could. Hot Rod simply kept close to Tony, who was complaining about mother-henning mechs again.

“Let’s go back inside and wait for the rescue,” Jazz decided, noting the first signs of the snow storm coming in.

Sam could only agree.

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It took one brief snow storm and seven long hours for the rescue helicopters to arrive. Three were CH-53E Super Stallions, heavy-lift Sikorsky helicopters, that were needed to airlift the mechs back to the Arctic base. The Autobots, in their car modes, were hooked up under the belly of the heavy lifters. The human crew climbed into another Sikorsky while the Ghost-2 remained behind. She would be removed later.

“Welcome aboard,” the crew chief greeted them. His voice was muffled by his helmet.

“Good to be aboard,” Walker replied.

The others filed in, taking their seats and strapping in. Tony and Sam were still in their armors.

“Not bad for our second mission,” Hamilton joked as the helicopter lifted off.

The others smiled.

“Yeah, we survived,” Tony quipped. “Big plus.”

“And only wrecked the ship a little,” Sam added, chuckling.

“Nothing we can’t fix,” Craig agreed. “With time. And duct tape.”

“Lots of duct tape,” Tanner added.

The helicopter was gaining speed, heading out over open water. Sam nodded off after a while, his mind anchored to Bumblebee, who was hanging underneath another helicopter and watching over his charge. Tony wasn’t tired, too wired to even get close to tired. The crew of the Ghost-2 was in various stages of dozing off, only Walker appeared mostly awake. He was talking to someone via the comm line with the Arctic base.

Things would get even more busy once they had landed.

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Ironhide entered Lennox’s quarters, very silent despite his size and mass. He found his partner out cold on the bed, the runes swimming over the pale skin. Without really thinking, Ironhide scanned the hybrid and got his scan slammed back into his face. He grimaced, but amusement accompanied the grimace. Even a sleeping Will retaliated.

Lennox moved and blinked his eyes open, looking alert and ready to act should the scan have been hostile.

“Hey,” he muttered and sat up.

“Sorry,” Ironhide apologized for waking the man up, but a part of him was proud that Lennox had felt the scan and had reacted accordingly.

“What’s up?”

“We’re getting normalcy back. Prime has arrived and brought Sideswipe with him. He had a rather short debriefing and you can count on the gawking.”

“What else is new?”

“The Ghost-2 has landed. Jazz already called in.”

“Good. The guys okay?”

“Shaken but okay. I think everyone is,” Ironhide told him. He wanted to scan again, to make sure nothing had happened to Will, but he held back. He had his urges under control, he told himself.

Will didn’t need a mother-hen, and he was very well able to take care of himself.

Part of Ironhide sneered. Tell himself that all he wanted, he didn’t believe it. Not truly. Soundwave had gone after his partner and Will had only escaped because Ravage had underestimated the hybrid. Next time they might not be so lucky.

He growled.

There wouldn’t be a next time!

Will scrubbed a hand over his face. “So we got a Decepticon problem now,” he remarked.

“Maybe. Sideswipe reported that Soundwave had Megatron’s dead shell. He blew it up together with Soundwave’s hideout. Probably wiped out one of the symbiotes, too.”

Ironhide felt a huge amount of satisfaction at that. The symbiotes, small as they might be, were dangerous. They were Soundwave’s spies and Soundwave didn’t work with second-class mechs. Ironhide himself had faced the devious little things before. He knew how serious he had to take them.

If Ravage had succeeded…

“Megatron’s dead. What would he want with the shell?” Will’s question drew him out of his thoughts.

Blue optics regarded him with an almost burning intensity. They didn’t know, but they had a good guess. Why would anyone take only one human in this whole base, the very one who had merged with the Allspark shard and become a hybrid life form?

“He was after me,” Will finally said softly.

“Prime wants a meeting in an hour,” his partner said instead of answering the hidden question. “Video conference with everyone at Nellis and the Arctic base.”

Will nodded. “Shower and a coffee, then I’m there.”

Ironhide watched him disappear into the bathroom, his spark aching with the knowledge of what had happened – and what it meant for the future. But something else settled in his processor: he would make sure that neither Soundwave nor anyone else would ever get his hands on Lennox. Ever. He’d die protecting the hybrid – and he was secure in the knowledge that Will wasn’t defenseless. He was to be reckoned with; Ironhide had trained him.

The weapons specialist couldn’t but wait for Will to finish his shower and he shadowed him on the way to the kitchen area. Lennox tolerated his ‘bodyguard’ without a word of complaint. It showed Ironhide more than anything how shaken up the man was.

And things wouldn’t get better. They never did.

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The painkillers had really knocked him out, but they had also let him sleep. Mike Bowman walked carefully from the kitchen to the couch of his apartment on base, one arm in a sling, the other holding a can of caffeine-free pop. He still felt woozy from the drugs, but at least he was out of the hospital. As much as he wanted to call the Autobot base, talk to the guys there, get an update on Lennox, he knew it would only lead to Epps telling him to take it easy and heal.

WiFi sat on the back of his easy chair, twipping softly. The little guy hadn’t left his side for more than a minute. The damage done to him had been repaired by Ratchet, though the Nokia had refused help in the beginning. He still distrusted the Autobots, but he had finally relented.

“So, whatcha in for?” Bowman asked him. “Soaps, documentaries, crime shows, sci-fi?”

The Nokia made clicking sounds. Mike grinned. He knew how much the mech was addicted to crime shows and a kind soul had given him several Gigabytes of crime show episodes to watch while he recovered.

“All right, all right. Survivor it is.”

WiFi shrilled indignantly, red optics flaring.

Bowman laughed. “Just kidding. CSI or CSI New York?”

It got him a warble of excitement and he scrolled through the extensive episode list to the collection of CSI New York. He decided on chronologically watching the new episodes and settled back with a sigh. WiFi folded his legs under him, sitting to his left on the back of the easy chair, humming with pleasure.

 

Mike fell asleep throughout the second episode. WiFi just twipped softly, then went back to watching. He wouldn’t mind seeing episodes a second time when his human friend was awake again.

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Tom Banachek had been there personally when the crew of the Ghost-2 had come in aboard the Super Stallions. The three cargo carriers had carefully placed their load outside the base and the Autobots had driven in under their own power. The helicopter with its human cargo had landed close to the base and everyone had disembarked.

They all looked a bit disheveled, tired, roughed-up, but no one was visibly hurt. Sam and Tony in their armors stood out like sore thumbs, and Sam was itching to get rid of the protective gear. Tony, who had a lot more experience in the Iron Man armor, looked almost comfortable. Give him a glass of champagne and he might just be at some boring charity reception.

“Welcome home,” he told the men and one woman, nodding at Walker that they had permission to get refreshed and fed first. “I know you just came home, but things on Earth have sped up. Not in a good way either. You have an hour, then Optimus Prime has ordered a video conference with everyone.”

Tony only cocked one eyebrow, then turned and headed to his quarters. Sam sighed a little and followed. Both men were shadowed by their respective guardians, which left Jazz with Banachek.

“I already got the basic lay-out of our situation,” the silver mech said softly. “Did you sweep the base?”

“Yes. We found no trace of Decepticon presence in the base or the vicinity. Barricade spent the better half of a day making sure of that, too.” Banachek grimaced at the memory.

The former Decepticon had been thorough, but he wasn’t the most social of mechs. His interaction with base personnel had been minimal and even then he had scared them. But he was good at his job.

Jazz smiled a little. “Good. See you in an hour, Tom.”

Banachek watched him leave again and he had a good guess where he was going. Barricade was still around, even if he was mostly outside and patrolling the territory. He finally went back to his office to prepare for the meeting.

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Jazz found Barricade on the other side of the base entrance, the black and white mech waiting patiently. No words were lost, but a lot was said anyway. Jazz smiled at the expression in the terrifying face, the blood red optics flaring briefly.

They stayed like this, together, scanning the horizon, their sparks brushing against each other, until the worsening weather had them enter the Arctic base once more.

It was time for the meeting.

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Pepper Potts had cancelled all meetings and taken a Stark Industries jet to the Arctic station. She would have fought Heaven and Hell to be there when Tony finally made it home, and when the jet received clearance and was allowed to land, Stark had already been brought back from the crash site in Greenland.

Pepper waited impatiently for the medical check to be completed. On the outside she appeared cool and collected, completely professional. Inside was another matter.

When she was finally allowed inside the examination room, she walked with a crisp, business-like stride. Green eyes sought out the man sitting easily on the examination table. Tony looked like this was nothing more than a dentist’s appointment. There were no external wounds and while he appeared tired, it wasn’t a look she hadn’t seen before.

“Ms. Potts,” he greeted her with a cheerful smile. “You light up this room.”

Pepper was momentarily drawn between hitting him and hugging him, then simply smiled.

“Welcome home, Mr. Stark.”

“Aw, you missed me.”

“I had to reschedule several of your appointments,” she informed him formally.

“They’ll live.”

“Probably.”

“And the company’s still standing. So I take it my absence wasn’t noted.”

She had noted. As had Jarvis. It was a little weird how she had drifted down into the workshop to talk to the AI after the second day Tony had been up in space. It had been natural to wrap up each day with Jarvis. While part of Jarvis had been downloaded into the armor, it wasn’t linked to the AI. Jarvis hadn’t been able to talk to Tony in real time.

“You’ll make up for it,” she informed him.

“You bet I will. So, what’s my favorite red head doing in a place like this?” He flashed her his best charming smile.

Pepper really wanted to whack him over the head with something heavy now. “Making sure you get home in one piece.”

“Ah. My second baby-sitter.”

“Personal assistant,” she immediately corrected.

Tony’s eyes took on a more serious note all of a sudden. His smile turned from charming to soft and knowing.

“Thank you, Pepper,” he whispered as he walked past her.

Pepper allowed an equally soft smile to answer the words. “You’re welcome, Tony.”

Then she followed him out the medical unit of the base, computer pad in hand, business as usual.

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The tension was thick enough to cut it with a knife. Sitting in the conference room, Will tried not to look at his hands all the time. He had chosen a long-sleeved t-shirt to cover his arms and almost added gloves since the runes were hyper-active and very numerous. His face looked like an explosion of tribal tattoos on top of that.

Optimus Prime was looking at the assembled allied forces with a somber, grave expression. Nellis and the Arctic base were there via video conference on ultra-secure channels. Lennox saw the crew of the Ghost-2, Jazz, Hot Rod, Bumblebee, Sam and Tony on one screen. Bowman, Arcee, Ratchet and Major General Henry Dunn on the second one.

The briefing had been clear and to the point. There was no doubt about how perfectly Soundwave had staged all events.

To get to Will.

Lennox felt sick to the core.

“What would he want with Will?” Sam asked, sounding perplexed. “He’s not the Allspark.”

“Soundwave doesn’t know that,” Ratchet replied. “He went through all the data he could hack, but most information about Will is not on any servers. For a reason. The accident was filed away, but not what happened afterwards. Soundwave doesn’t know about Will’s abilities, the changes, or the fact that he can’t use any powers the Allspark had.”

“He does now. At least some,” Lennox muttered, but they heard him.

“Yes, he does. Whether he believes your shape-changing is the only ability remains to be seen. He wanted to revive Megatron,” Prime said. “Megatron’s body shell was raised from the Laurentian abyss and we found remnants of it in the wreckage of the building Soundwave used as a hideout. The sabotage of the Ghost-2 and the attack on Captain Bowman were to distract us from Ravage’s presence. It nearly worked.”

Will shivered a little. He had become a pawn. Soundwave believed he had something he had never had, nor would gain. He wasn’t the Allspark.

“Do you think he’ll try again?” Tony wanted to know. “If he believes Lennox is your Allspark…”

“He lost Megatron’s shell and several of his symbiotes,” Ratchet answered. “Then there’s the question as to how he would have gone about reviving a destroyed spark. The Allspark might have worked, but it was never tried before. None of the dead have ever been revived. All Soundwave could hope for was... a puppet.”

“Which would be enough to gain control of the scattered Decepticon forces,” Prime added. “Soundwave is very powerful and he has his followers, but then there are those solely loyal to Megatron. He would have them all.”

“The question is,” Will spoke up, “is he gone or do I have to look over my shoulder now?”

“We don’t know where he went, Will,” Optimus told him with an apologetic note.

Great.

“But we’ll be looking for him,” Ironhide added with a low rumble. It was a promise.

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At the Arctic base, tension was just as bad as in Nevada. The Ghost-2 was currently under minute scrutiny. Engineers were looking for possible secondary sabotage, altered circuits and hidden additions. So far, nothing had come up. The aim had been to delay the ship’s return.  
With the video conference over, people went back to their work or finally to bed. The crew of the Ghost-2 were doing the latter. Tony Stark found that while he was tired, he wasn’t tired enough to sleep. He got himself a coffee and walked out into the underground hangar, gazing thoughtfully at the ship he had helped redesign. The sabotage had felt like a violation to him and even now the Extremis was going over the strained circuits and downloading data the engineers were going over as well. Tony trusted them, but he wanted to have his own look at matters.

“Hey,” a familiar voice greeted him.

He didn’t need to turn around. He knew who was next to him – the silver legs gave it away. He leaned sideways a little, shoulder bumping against Hot Rod’s lower leg.

“Hey,” he answered.

Silence descended between them. It was a comfortable silence as both watched the hustle and bustle around the ship until Tony had emptied his super-size coffee.

“Banachek has a flight ready for us,” Hot Rod finally said.

“Noticed. It’s his not so subtle hint that he wants us out of here.”

“It’s his very open offer to fly you home for you to get some rest,” Hot Rod contradicted.

“Or that.”

The Autobot smiled. “You want to stay here and poke around the Ghost-2 again?”

“She’s a wreck.”

“So you build a new one.”

Tony snorted. He was tempted to try his hand at designing a new ship from zero, but he also had a business to run and his mind was still working on how to adjust the Ark to their needs. To get to the Ark they needed a ship, though.

“I’ll leave that to Banachek. Man’s probably bored.”

“Probably,” Hot Rod chuckled. “As for your business, I think Pepper’s been calling you a dozen times already.”

“Uh-huh.”

While she was at the base, he had used the cavernous complex to get lost. He really hadn’t been ready to re-enter the business world just yet. His cell phone was still switched off, but the Extremis extension had alerted him to the many calls. He hadn’t answered them.

“She’s called me twice so far.”

“My very own answering machine. Cool.”

“Don’t get used to it,” Hot Rod replied. “Not part of the job description.”

Tony just smiled, still leaning against him, still more relaxed than he usually was. He finally pushed away and headed back into the base, face shifting into business mode. He used Extremis to call Pepper’s BlackBerry.

“Hey, Pep. What’s up?” he asked, voice oozing charm.

It got him an earful. Literally.

Hot Rod followed; a huge, hard to miss shadow of his human charge. In twenty-four hours they would be back in L.A., back in real life.

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It had never felt that good to be home. Sam tiredly got out of the yellow Camaro and Bumblebee transformed, strategically placing a leg behind the exhausted technopath to keep him from keeling over. Sam stubbornly tried to stay on his own two feet as he made his way into his house and headed straight for bed. He had tried to sleep on the plane back from the Arctic base, but it had been a losing battle. His mind was too wired with the information as to what had happened while they had been in space, and he really needed to shut down. Completely.

Bumblebee had offered to let Sam anchor himself in his mind and spark, but the human had declined. It was tempting. So very, very tempting. But the briefing had been more important. Their transport back to Nevada had been ready by the time the emergency conference had been over and six hours later they were back from ice to desert sand.

Sam sighed and buried in his pillows, still turning events over and over in his head. He needed to sleep, but the thoughts wouldn’t let him.

::Sleep:: Bumblebee’s gentle mind-voice told him.

::Trying::

::Stop trying. Stop forcing. Just… relax::

Sam groaned and curled up in his bed. He couldn’t stop thinking. Too much still needed to be processed.

::We’ll talk about it tomorrow:: Bumblebee promised, nudging him just a little.

The technopath mumbled something, then let go.

 

Bumblebee waited for a moment longer, just in case, then smiled to himself. Sam was fast asleep. He left his charge and went back into the Autobot base. He had some catching up to do himself.

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Sideswipe watched the daily bustle at the Autobot base on Earth, feeling strangely removed from it all. He had been welcomed by Autobots and humans alike, but this wasn’t home. This wasn’t where he belonged.

He had nowhere else to go, though.

That thought alone had his spark ache.

The presence of Barricade was a bit disturbing, but for some reason Sideswipe couldn’t care less. He had lost too much to care about a Con in their midst. He had lost his team. Tyger Pax had eradicated a lot of good soldiers, but he had never believed it could hit so close to home. He didn’t know if he was the only survivor of Prowl’s team or not. He didn’t know if his brother was out there, looking for him as Sideswipe was looking for Sunstreaker, or if he was one of the many shattered shells, unrecognizable even to their closest friends, left behind on the battle fields.

He just didn’t know.

Sunstreaker had been the closest spark to him ever since he had been created. Once in a while the Allspark seemed to find a sense of humor and create what humans translated as ‘twins’. Since mechs weren’t born out of two cells combining, twins as such was not exactly the correct term. ‘Spark brothers’ didn’t honor their bond either. And they weren’t spark bonded like Jazz and Barricade.

Sideswipe felt his thoughts sidetrack at that comparison. The revelation that Jazz had bonded to a Decepticon, and been bonded throughout the war, had left the new-arrival speechless. It was surreal and it was beautiful, and Sideswipe was one of the few who could truly understand what this closeness meant.

Sunstreaker had meant the same, without the bonded aspect. They had just been… good together. For all their differences in personality and talents, they had been able to relate to the other best.

Now…

He suppressed a moan. He had no proof his brother was dead. He had nothing to go on but the continued absence. Maybe Prowl and the others had fled, thinking Sideswipe had perished. Maybe they had been taken prisoner. Maybe…

Sideswipe clenched his hands into fists.

He wouldn’t believe in death until he had solid proof.

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A new mech always meant a time of adjustment for Sam. Well, for the technopath in Sam. He needed to filter out the new mech’s ‘emissions’, so to speak. With Sideswipe it was a bit harder than with Arcee or Hot Rod, who he had quickly adapted to.

On the outside, Sideswipe looked like a cool, spiffy sports car. Hunkering low on the street it was clearly not a run-of-the-mill model; more like a concept car. It had a sharp front end, a wraparound windscreen leading to a sloping roofline that tapered off into a split-window backlight. Sam had wondered where Sideswipe had transcanned the model, but only briefly.

Sideswipe was… dark. Not a moody dark; it was an emotional abyss that was flaring now and then. He could feel the negative emotions coming from the newly arrived mech and it was painful. As if that wasn’t enough, the flashes Sam had now and then, memories of the war, were confusing.

 

Sideswipe was surrounded by suffocating blackness. There wasn’t a single point of light and he wasn’t so sure if he was coming or going. He thought he was walking somewhere, but he could also be standing rooted to the spot. His sense of direction was gone, his optics, though wide open, were of no use, and his feet were definitely not on solid ground. He gasped for air that wasn’t there, feeling the blackness close around him, bringing an inhuman coldness. He had the sudden feeling of falling down and screamed in surprise. His hands flailed out for something solid to hold on, all the time thinking he was rushing down to his certain death on very solid ground.

Then light washed over him, blinding him and he averted his optics with a groan. When he looked up again to try and make out his surroundings a wave of dizziness washed over him and the world tilted sideways. Instinctively, Sideswipe stretched out his hand, searching for support and coming down hard against a solid, metal surface. He tried a second time to get his bearings.

Something rumbled close by, then exploded, shaking the ground.

Sideswipe turned his head to see what had gone up now. It was a bad idea, because now disorientation hit him and he slid to the ground with a moan, supporting his back against a wall. Suddenly his damage control kicked in and he was presented with his condition. Now he knew why he felt the way he did. He was in a catastrophic condition! He was suffering from massive energon loss, torn transformation circuits, muscle cables and wires, as well as multiple abrasions, deep cuts and lacerations, and blistered skin. His paint job was close to non-existent, the rich red and silver colors burned and blackened.

Sideswipe tried to get back to his feet, finding it hard to do so. Another wave of disorientation washed over him and he stumbled, his hands flailing out to catch some support. He was in a pretty bad shape and any other mech would have already shut down, but not him. He was still running... because... because...

“Sunstreaker?” he called out.

 

Yeah. Like that one.

He rubbed his forehead and strengthened his shields. It was time he got in some meditation or something like it. He needed to balance out his technopathic mind.

“He lost his brother,” Bumblebee explained as Sam mentioned the flashes. “Sunstreaker… was as close as an unbonded mech can be. They were twins.”

“Twins?” Sam echoed, confused.

“There have been several incidents of a split spark. Well, a spark copied and inserted into a different shell. No one knows why the Allspark did it. Those mechs end up being very much alike, but not spark-bonded. I know of three cases, but there are more. The latest, before the war broke out, were Mudflap and Skids. Sunstreaker and Sideswipe are a lot older, and they were inseparable. Sunstreaker was always the more arrogant of the two,” Bumblebee added with an audible smile. “But hell in a fight. A front-line warrior and like Sideswipe part of Prowl’s assault team. He was a force to be reckoned with, even if you couldn’t stand him personally because he had the ‘better-than-you’ attitude.”

“And now Sideswipe’s feeling the loss,” Sam concluded.

“Badly. Worse than Barricade did when Jazz died at Megatron’s hands. Sides doesn’t know what happened to his brother. There’s no body. He could be alive, he could be dying somewhere, maybe in stasis-lock, maybe a dead husk on some alien moon in the middle of nowhere.”

Sam gazed out over the darkening desert. They had chosen their usual spot, the far out building at the end of the old runway, and he had settled on the low side building. Bumblebee sat next to him, optics on his level.

“He blames Soundwave,” the technopath stated.

“Soundwave’s team attacked Prowl’s, and when Sideswipe came to after a blast had him off-line, everyone was gone.”

Sam felt echoes of Bumblebee’s past touch his mind. Dark memories of battles, of fighting an overwhelming Decepticon force, getting caught, tortured…

He reached out and hugged his partner, shivering with the shared shards of memories.

“You think he’ll stay?” Sam asked.

“Where else can he go? It’s like for Hot Rod and later Arcee. They found others, they found us, and we’re old friends. Despite all his brooding and how he keeps away, Sideswipe isn’t a loner. Soundwave might come back and if nothing else, the need for revenge will keep him here.”

Sam nodded. Sideswipe had a lot of adjusting to do and it wouldn’t be easy. He had lost everything and he was looking for a purpose until he had Soundwave as a target once more.

Hopefully that new purpose would draw him into the little group of humans and mechs. Right now he was at the fringe, looking warily at an alliance he had never encountered before, and he kept to himself. It was a loneliness that nurtured the darkness.

Sam felt it more than anyone else among them.

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John Keller had never really believed that stepping down as the Secretary of Defense would get him more free time. Especially not since he had accepted a position within Stark Industries that allowed him to have Tony’s back in all kinds of scenarios.

Like Stark going off into space to visit the Ark.

Keller had also known that one day the presence of the Autobots on Earth might get known to the public. It was too big a secret to keep. He had simply hoped it was after his lifetime.

As it was, the possibility was looming on the horizon. Just like the fact that a Decepticon was apparently hiding on Earth, and with him a dozen symbiotic mechs, and he was dangerous.

“We can’t be sure,” Prime could be heard addressing the assembled allies. “But we believe that Soundwave was only after Megatron’s shell to revive it with the Allspark shell. Megatron’s remains were destroyed completely and Soundwave knows now that Will Lennox isn’t the Allspark.”  
“Does he?”

Prime was silent, then inclined his head. “It is my hope that he does.”

“But he might just see Will as even more interesting now. Ravage saw him change into a protoform.”

Optimus made a rattling noise; a mechanoid sigh.

Keller grimaced to himself. Lennox was an unknown factor, mostly because he was still growing into his changes, but no one had ever tested whether or not he could really do what the Allspark had been capable of.

“Soundwave also knows about the base, our allies, all that was stored in your data-bases,” Prime now said. “We can protect ourselves, but it’s vitally important for you to protect your own now.”

Banachek leaned forward, catching Keller’s attention. “You think he’ll strike again? Despite the fact that there is nothing to gain?”

“The death of an Autobot is always a victory for a Decepticon,” Ratchet spoke up. “Soundwave is a highly logical being and he won’t risk his own existence or that of his surviving symbiotes just for revenge. He’s isn’t that petty. But we can’t ignore his power.”

The men nodded and Keller’s eyes strayed to Sam and Will, who were taking part in this meeting as quiet watchers. Neither man had yet to speak up. Sam looked unusually serious and tense. Lennox was wearing a mask. His face was devoid of emotions, but not devoid of runes. If not for the glyphs, he might just be a statue.

“The threat is still there,” Banachek finally said. “No different than before. We had little to no trouble in the past several years, and what happened we dealt with. We can’t hide, but we can’t go overboard either.”

Prime nodded. “It’s our priority that we get the Ark up as a defensive station.”

“Working on it,” Stark said, drawing their attention to him. Keller had almost forgotten Tony had insisted he be here as well. “Your guys are busy doing all that can be done by remote. Her scanners are working in close quarters, which gives you a heads-up in case Soundwave makes a run for her. The rest Finch wants to bring up one by one. Since the Ghost-2 is a wreck and rebuilding her will take time, personal visits will be rather difficult.”

“But not impossible,” Banachek agreed.

“Nope.”

“So we have a clear plan now,” Banachek spoke up. “We need to get the Ark up and running, secure her against Decepticon tampering, and we keep looking for Soundwave and his symbiotes.”

“SI satellites have already been reprogrammed to look for any blip from him,” Tony informed them with a smug smile. “He might be undercover now, but he’s not invisible.”

“Agreed,” Ratchet rumbled.

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As the meeting dispersed, Keller sought out Lennox, who was talking softly with Sam. Both looked a bit more tired than usual, something he had noted throughout the meeting, too.

“Hello, John,” Lennox greeted him, dredging up a smile.

“How are you?” Keller wanted to know.

“Doing as best as one can, knowing I’m a target.”

Keller grimaced. “Will…”

“Don’t. Just, don’t. I knew… on some level… that I might end up being a person of interest to some mechs. I just didn’t think it would be…” He stopped and raked his fingers through his hair. “Crap. I should have known. I’m the Allspark.”

“You’re not,” the former SecDef contradicted. “You might look like it sometimes, but you’re not.”

“Who knows what I can do, John? Who knows what might still happen?”

The older man shrugged. “Who knows indeed? Will, we know next to nothing about the future. This… what happened was terrible, but it shows us even more than before that we can survive, we can defend, we can fight back.”

The dark eyes filled with resignation. “Ironhide’s going to be insufferable from now on.”

Keller grinned. “Probably. Is it so bad?”

Lennox chuckled. “No. Aside from the fact that I now feel like everyone’s favorite toy, that is.”

“And Ironhide gets to play with you,” a new voice joined in and Keller rolled his eyes.

Tony grinned irrepressibly. “What? It’s the truth?”

Lennox glared at him.

Stark grinned even more, outright amused. “Hey, chalk it up to the envy of a guy who hasn’t got laid lately.”

Keller sighed deeply and shook his head. Will chuckled.

“Hey, don’t blame me,” the former Army ranger said easily. “There’s plenty of women fawning over the illustrious Tony Stark, CEO, billionaire, playboy, et cetera.”

“You really think I’m into shallow?”

“According to a lot of magazines, yeah, you are.”

“You wound me, Will.” Tony even managed to look downright hurt.

“Nothing stops you from having human contact, Tony.”

“Aside from an arc reactor in my chest, no, nothing at all.”

“They’d buy it as a fancy accessory if you tell them. Try telling anyone these are the new kind of ‘in’ tattoos.” Lennox gestured at himself. “And now I’ve got to look over my shoulder wherever I go because I’m the next hot item on the mech black market.”

Tony snorted. “First, wherever you go, there’s always one of those guys around. Or a unit of soldiers. Second, not so hot. Third, get over it. We all have got our problems. And anyway, you don’t get out much, do you?”

“Oh, rub it in, Stark.”

Keller smiled at the banter, seeing the lines in Will’s face ease a little, and whether or not Stark had intended to, he had helped lighten the other man’s mood.

A beep from his cell reminded him of another appointment he had to keep. A plane was already waiting outside the base and he would be in Washington, meeting the President, in seven hours. While Keller was no longer the SecDef or any kind of high military commander, he was still called in for special meetings.

Like now.

“Tony?” he interrupted the two men.

Stark grew serious, but reluctantly. His eyes were suddenly shadowed. Tony would be coming along, mainly as the CEO of Stark Industries, the only company on the planet that worked with the hybrid Cybertronian technology and that kept on their research and development of new technology. They would be pushing the repair of the Ghost-2 and her relaunch into space to go back to the Ark. Right now, several specialized teams were working on getting the programs they had installed in the mainframe of the Ark to work with the technology on Earth. Long-distance work wasn’t really the word for what this was.

Stark Industries satellites were used to relay the signals, but it was still mind-numbing to wait for minutes to get a positive or negative answer. The Ghost-2 was needed, if only to deposit relay stations between the Ark and Earth on her next flight.

“Yeah. Coming. Will,” Stark addressed the rune-covered man, “see you around. Call,” he added, voice very serious now. “If you want to talk.”

Lennox gave him a nod of understanding. “Yeah. Likewise.”

As Tony walked out the base and across the tarmac, Keller at his side, they were joined by a silver Audi R8. Hot Rod would be coming along, as expected. The mech headed for the loading ramp of the huge military plane while the two humans went up the stairs.

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Will watched the plane taxi to the launch strip, then turned and went back into the base. He was immediately joined by his partner, who wordlessly accompanied him to the lower levels. They hadn’t seen much of each other and Will found he had missed the easy companionship of before. Now… now the tension was back. A tension that had been with Ironhide ever since the war, but also a tension he had been able to let go of now and then.

“I’m heading for Nellis,” Will broke the silence between them.

Ironhide nodded. They now needed their liaison even more than before. Nellis had been the target and Dunn wanted to bring in those who hadn’t been told about the aliens now. It was important that all soldiers knew, even if there were thousands to inform, and with the threat of Soundwave coming back or more undercover symbiotes, they had to do this.

“I’m needed here, Will,” the mech finally said.

“I know. No problem, Hide.” Will smiled. The military life had him back.

Ironhide looked less than happy. “You’ll be outside the base.”

“Now really?” was the sarcastic reply. “I’m at Nellis, Hide. The base is on yellow alert. Nothing will happen.”

The optics flared. “Something already has happened, Lennox. Nowhere is safe!”

“So it doesn’t matter where I am,” Will concluded. “Right? The bases were all breached and we have to make sure it won’t happen again. It’s my job to work with Bowman on getting Nellis safe. It’s what I do.”

“Will…”

“I gotta pack. I’m leaving in an hour.”

Blue optics gazed at him and Lennox knew the runes were flaring. Ironhide was visibly fighting the urge to order his partner to stay here where he could protect him, but it wouldn’t help. First of all, Will Lennox was his own person and very well able to defend himself. And second, this was their job. They were soldiers.

“I’ll drive,” came the gruff rumble.

Will chuckled. “Okay. An hour.”

And he walked into his quarters.

Ironhide nodded, then turned and went looking for Optimus Prime.

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“You think this could work?” Bowman asked dubiously.

He had been back to work almost right after the doctors at Nellis had cleared him for duty. There was so much to do, Lennox couldn’t be left on his own to deal with it all. Mike had done his best from his apartment, but now that he was officially allowed back again, it was a whole different ball game.

Two weeks had passed since the incident with Howlback and Nellis was still not back to its usual alert status. People noticed. Soldiers had been briefed by himself and by Will Lennox on what had really happened, on what had been going on in the previous years, and across the globe, governments prepared for the now very real, not-too-much-in-the-future day that the mechs would become unclassified knowledge.

Tony Stark frowned. “You doubt my word?”

Stark had been back on what he called a personal matter and had wanted to talk to Bowman. Mike had been curious. His curiosity had turned into surprise and slight shock when Stark had unpacked.

Bowman chuckled. “Kinda. No. Well, a little.” He walked around the personal body armor and shook his head. “I know it works for you and you got Jarvis. I know you developed one for Sam, including his technopathy. Why me?”

“’Cause Lennox wimped out?”

The captain frowned.

“Well, mainly because you’ve become a probable target of the enemy, too,” Tony amended.

“I’m not that important, Stark. Soundwave targeted me because a) I’m the liaison and thus know about you guys, and b) he knew someone would be here right away. With so many more now aware of the mechs, chances are I’ll never be in that situation again.”

Tony’s expression showed no humor. “Or you’re in more trouble than you think you are because a) you are that important as our prime liaison and b) WiFi.”

The Nokia twipped.

Bowman frowned. “Or because you and Will and everyone else are still conspiring to get me transferred out to the Autobot base,” he grumbled.

The grin on Tony’s face came lightning fast. “Or that.”

“So this is what? A gift?”

“Better than flowers on a first date,” the billionaire quipped, waggling his eyebrows.

Mike grimaced.

Tony shrugged, then gestured at the small transformer sitting on the work table. “I have Jarvis, you will need him.”

“WiFi?”

The tiny bot chirped.

“Yep.”

“Why him?”

“He’s an artificial intelligence. We need one to help the suit interface with the human component. I don’t want to start developing them by the dozen.” Stark’s expression grew serious. “It’s too dangerous. AIs develop, take on a life of their own. I know what I’m talking about.”

Jarvis. Yes, Bowman had met the AI once, through Tony and the armor, and he found the computer sentience was rather… unique and individual. So was WiFi.

“So you want to plug him into this?” he finally asked, a little aghast. “He’s not some kind of add-on!”

“He volunteered, Mike. And he’s not a tool, I know that.”

“How can he volunteer?”

“We talked?” Tony answered, making it a question.

“You talked to him?!”

“Yep, Frequently.”

“How?”

Tony frowned. “Emails?”

Emails. Of course. WiFi might not be able to speak in any kind of language – and Bowman had gotten pretty good at interpreting the twips, chirrups and warble – but he could write emails.

Bowman looked at his small friend. The spider-like transformer warbled an affirmative.

“Are you crazy?”

Another warble, ending with pointed clicking of one foreleg against the table top.

“What if this whole idea misfires?” Bowman argued, feeling worry rise. He had lived with the tiny bot for so long, he couldn’t imagine letting anything happen to him. “It could fry your circuits!”

The argumentative chirping and angry flare of the optics told him that WiFi didn’t agree.

“He wouldn’t be plugged in directly,” Tony spoke up. “Even Jarvis, who is uploaded into the Iron Man armor, is protected by an army of buffers and walls.”

“No offense, Stark, but Jarvis isn’t physically inside the armor, okay?” Bowman told him forcefully. “WiFi would be, plugged into a socket like some kind of iPod.”

WiFi twipped.

“He’ll be safe,” Tony promised.

“And you want me to test the armor?”

Stark shrugged. “I think he works best with you.”

WiFi shrilled his agreement.

Bowman sighed deeply. “Okay. I’ll do it. Even it’s just to keep you from coercing the little guy into another wild scheme.”

“Hey,” Tony exclaimed, looking offended, and WiFi argued shrilly again.

Bowman grinned and held out a hand for his little partner. The Nokia clambered onto his palm, then scurried up to his shoulder. He poked his legs into the captain’s uniform, bringing a point across.

Bowman frowned. “Call me. I’ll be on base.” With that he was gone.

Tony gave a mock salute and turned back to his work.

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Mike was back in his office, trying to work on his reports, but words went by him. He finally pushed the laptop away, together with most of the paper, and met the red gaze of his little friend.

“You are serious, right? About all of this?”

WiFi twipped.

“It’s insane, WiFi!”

Another twip.

“You’re risking everything if the armor short-circuits or gets blown apart or something like that!”

The Nokia shrilled something, hammering the right foreleg onto the table.

“If this is about being part of something, doing something, no! You don’t have to risk your life, okay? You already did, attacking that thing Howlback.”

WiFi gave him a long-winded opinion about what he thought, what he had done, and how he wanted to be able to help.

“WiFi, listen… I know you feel like you’re missing out on something, but you’re not! You just barely survived your birth, damnit!”

WiFi argued loudly, scurrying along the table, optics blazing. Finally he stopped in front of the human and met the frown determinedly.

*twip!*

“You’re not useless. You’re my friend and I hate to see you hurt or worse!”

*TWIP!*

“WiFi…”

*Chirruptwipwhistle*

Bowman sighed deeply, hanging his head a little. “You’re one determined little critter.”

The Nokia hummed, pleased, then gently poked Bowman’s hand, warbling something.

“I trust you to make the right decisions,” the captain said. “And I know Tony wouldn’t hurt any of you guys. It’s just… well, insane. It’s a prototype.”

WiFi poked him again, tiny head tilting. He chirped.

“Hey, I’m a test pilot. Well, was. I know the risk. And fact is the armor isn’t the prototype, the interface circuits are. You’re the one in danger.”

WiFi stroked over his fingers, making soft, reassuring warbling noises. Bowman chuckled and scooped him up.

“All right. You work with Stark on that. Don’t let him push you into something stupid, okay?”

*chirrup*

“And you’re already my hero, right? You defended me against the symbiote and you managed to  
inflict damage.”

WiFi clicked softly, nodding.

Mike smiled a little more. He was proud of the tiny mech and he had been scared shitless when he had seen WiFi attack something that was a hundred times larger than him without thinking twice. WiFi was courageous, immensely courageous. He didn’t need to prove he was useful; Bowman knew.

But WiFi wanted this. And Mike wasn’t his keeper, just a good friend.

The Nokia twipped gently, poking at his hand again. The captain smiled. “Yeah. I know. You’re not stupid, you know the risks, and you want this. I’ll do the armor tests with you.”

WiFi bounced, wing-like structures flaring.

“But right now we have the latest crisis to deal with.”

He got a gurgle of agreement.

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Optimus Prime had joined Ratchet in the underground lab and storage facility that was the safest in the whole base. Ironhide had made sure that whoever got in would never be able to get out again. Layers upon layers of security coding, defensive measures and the simple fact that they were underground, surrounded by tons of rock, enforced with a super-hard alloy constructed by Stark Industries, made it impossible to escape.

It was where they had moved Chromia, still locked in stasis. It was where the dead shell of Beastbox had been similarly stored. It was where Ratchet had moved Squawktalk and Howlback, who he had forced to off-line and whose sparks he had disabled from their shells. Without a medic reconnecting them, they were in stasis and unable to access outside sensors. The charred remains of Glit had been put into a holding tank. Megatron’s ruined husk of a body shell had been obliterated.

“No sign of the other symbiotes,” Ratchet told his leader. “Jazz and Barricade followed the trail Ravage left, but he’s gone. Disappeared into thin air. Lazerbeak left traces at the Artic station, but he has likewise vanished. I’m sure Buzzsaw, Rumble and Ratbat are around, but no blip. Soundwave has disappeared off our radar.”

Optimus nodded, optics locked on the display screen of the facility. Five active chambers. Five prisoners. And a powerful Decepticon with the rest of the symbiotes was free.

“He might have left,” Ratchet continued. “He wanted Megatron. We destroyed what was left.”

“He wanted the Allspark,” Optimus corrected. “Will could still be in danger. Even with the Allspark, Soundwave could never have revived Megatron’s spark as he had been.”

“He was looking for a puppet,” Ratchet agreed. “Now there’s nothing left.”

“Nothing but the knowledge that Will is more than just a human who survived a terrible accident.”

“Soundwave isn’t stupid enough to hunt him. There’s nothing to prove that Will could revive a shell. He’s not the Allspark, Prime.”

Blue optics, ancient beyond his actual age, darkened a little. “We know that, Ratchet. Soundwave doesn’t.”

The medic sighed. “Ironhide will be protective enough. As for everything else, we can’t do more than be on our toes, as we’ve been for all of our existence ever since the war. Sam is a possible target, too. As is Tony. All of us are. But if we give in to the paranoia, it’s over.”

“I know that, Ratchet. But I can’t but blame myself for this.”

“Why? Because you didn’t think Soundwave might try to resurrect Megatron?” Ratchet sounded sarcastic now. “Prime, no one thought anyone could think of that! Starscream fled, the Allspark is gone, Megatron is dead. No Decepticon should have a reason to come here, aside from maybe trying to wipe out the last of the Autobots.”

Prime snorted. “Yes, maybe for that.”

“You might be Prime, Optimus, but you’re not omniscient. It happened. Like a lot of things. And we dealt with it. We’ll deal with the next attack, too.”

Optimus nodded, still tense. He finally turned and left the high security facility, aware that Ratchet followed him. The medic was aware of the new weight on his leader’s shoulders, the responsibility for Will Lennox, for his past, for his fate. Optimus shouldered a lot of that, a lot of guilt, and nothing anyone could ever tell him would lighten it.

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He had left Earth, recalling the surviving symbiotes, except one. Soundwave still wanted an optic on Earth. Right now he was in a stable orbit around Mars. He had by-passed the Ark, knowing she was of no use to him. Sabotaging the Autobot vessel was a waste of time. Right now he needed to recover, let the symbiotes recover, and reconsider his plans. Megatron’s shell was lost to him and the human was more than the filed data had let him believe. So the humans kept secrets; secrets that weren’t stored in their computers.

Soundwave had been taught a lesson. He had underestimated the enemy. It wouldn’t happen again. He had also underestimated the chance that an Autobot might have followed him to Earth; Sideswipe had been identified and his presence added to the data he had on the Autobots already on Earth.

“We could take them,” Rumble muttered sullenly, following Soundwave’s thought processes.

“Negative.”

“Why? We hit them hard now, they won’t expect it.”

“Attack: unnecessary.”

Rumble muttered to himself. They had lost several fellow warriors and it sat badly with the survivors.

“So what now?” Rumble demanded. “We just sit here and wait.”

“Priority: recovery.”

Ravage, Lazerbeak and the others sent their agreement. For now they had to regain their strengths. Soundwave would mull over what to do next in the meantime. One thing was for certain: the study of the hybrid human would take priority. If he displayed Allspark powers that could be harnessed to revive Megatron, then Soundwave would use him.

Next time he revealed his presence there would be no mistakes, whatever the plan might be.

Next time, the Autobots would pay.

 

fin!

 

Important Author's Note:

I'm trying to use a mix of what-might-be-movie-Soundwave and G1. In my mind's eye he looks like the movie version I've seen as a toy. I think he looks really cool.  
I call the cassettes 'symbiotes' because of it (He isn't a tape player ;) Hm, that makes me wonder what Bay calls them...). I'm also using all of them. All he ever had attributed to him, so pleae bear with me in case of confusing names. Two of them I never encountered myself because I didn't read the comics. I wikied his spies :P

And yes, they talk. All of them. While I can't remember Ravage, Lazerbeak and co ever to speak (unlike Rumble and Frenzy), I gave them voices here.

Don't hit me :) Hope you enjoy it nonetheless!


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